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LIBRARY 

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COLUMBIA   UNIVERSITY   STUDIES    IN    ENGLISH 
AND  COMPARATIVE  LITERATURE 


THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

SALES  AGENTS 

New  York 

LEMCKE  &  BUECHNER 

30-32  East  20th  Street 

London 

HUMPHREY  MILFORD 

Amen  Corner,  E.G. 

Shanghai 

EDWARD  EVANS  &  SONS,  Ltd. 

30  North  Szechuen  Road 


A  STUDY  OF 
THE  NEWE  METAMOKPHOSIS 

WkITTEN  by  J.  M.,  GENT,  1600 


BY 


JOHN  HENRY  HOBART  LYON,  Ph.D.,  Litt.D. 


i15eto  gork 

COLUMBIA   UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
1919 

All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1919 
BtJColumbia  University  Pre83 


Printed  from  type,  December,  1919 


Printed  by  The  Plimpton  Press,  Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


IN   MEMORIAM 

MY  MOTHER 

AND 

MY    FATHER 


This  Monograph  has  been  approved  by  the  Department  of 
English  and  Comparative  Literature  in  Columbia  University 
as  a  contribution  to  knowledge  worthy  of  publication. 

A.   H.  THORNDIKE, 

Executive  Officer 


PREFACE 

The  World  War  must  be  held  accountable  for  this  study 
of  a  long,  rambling  Elizabethan  manuscript.  I  had  planned 
for  some  time  to  investigate  the  life  and  work,  so  full  of 
problems,  of  John  Marston,  and  in  this  way  I  had  come  to 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis  which  had  been  associated  with 
the  dramatist's  name  for  over  a  century.  The  globe- 
embracing  designs  of  Germany  necessarily  put  a  stop  to 
further  research  concerning  Marston,  for  communication 
with  England  was  uncertain,  and  the  British  libraries  did 
not  welcome  visitors  during  those  anxious  days  of  grim  de- 
termination. Indeed,  one  felt  it  an  impertinence  to  intrude 
on  a  stage  set  for  so  sombre  a  tragedy.  But  since  the 
various  books  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  could  be  obtained 
at  long  intervals,  it  seemed  that  a  study  of  this  manuscript 
might  prove  of  some  value.  Its  many  closely-written  pages, 
indeed,  might  hold  something  of  fresh  interest  concerning 
those  "spacious  days"  of  Shakspere.  In  this,  I  have  been 
mistaken.  My  work,  consequently,  has  resolved  itself 
mainly  into  a  consideration  of  authorship. 

I  have  tried  to  keep  before  me  in  the  following  pages  the 
fact  that  a  manuscript,  not  easily  accessible,  is  of  the  chief 
concern  to  those  interested  in  a  limited  study  of  this  character. 
Quotations  are  given  frequently  and  at  length,  and  the  final 
chapter  is  devoted  to  selections.  In  doing  this  I  owe  the 
author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  an  apology,  because  he 
cannot  be  adequately  judged  by  a  few  lines  arbitrarily  taken 
from  his  nearly  one  thousand  pages.  He  is  at  his  best  as  a 
very  leisurely  teller  of  stories.     I  hope  at  some  time  in  the 

ix 


X  PREFACE 

future  to  show  this.  I  have  felt  there  is  no  need  of  a  bibU- 
ography,  since  the  authorities  to  whom  reference  is  made 
are  few,  and  indebtedness  to  them  has  been  acknowledged 
in  the  text.  The  spelling  and  scanty  punctuation  of  the 
manuscript  have  been  kept;  there  has  been  no  effort  made 
to  duplicate  the  script,  for  many  of  the  individual  letters 
are  formed  differently  from  the  modern  practice. 

I  appreciate  that  I  owe  thanks  to  many  friends  who  have 
encouraged  me  in  my  work.  I  am  especially  indebted  to 
Professor  Clyde  B.  Cooper  of  Armour  Institute  who  drew  my 
attention  to  Marston,  and  to  Professor  John  Matthews 
Manly,  Professor  Albert  H.  Tolman,  and  Professor  Charles 
R.  Baskerville  of  the  University  of  Chicago,  who  strengthened 
me  by  their  broad  scholarship  and  friendly  sympathy  in  a 
half-formed  desire  to  pursue  my  studies.  Professor  George 
P.  Krapp  and  Professor  Harry  M.  Ayres,  both  of  Columbia 
University,  have  been  of  much  assistance  to  me;  they  have 
generously  given  valuable  suggestions  and  constructive 
criticism.  I  am  conscious  of  obligations  to  Professor  Ashley 
H.  Thorndike  beyond  my  power  to  express.  The  inspira- 
tion of  his  scholarship  and  the  stimulus  of  his  keen  mind 
have  been  gladly  acknowledged  by  all  those  who  have  had 
the  advantage  of  his  direction.  I  feel,  however,  even  more 
grateful  to  him  because  of  the  ready  sympathy  and  fresh 
courage  he  gives  to  those  who  come  to  him  looking  for 
assistance. 

Columbia  University,  February,  1919. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

The  M ANtrscRiPT 1 

The  title-pages,  1.  —  Importance  of  the  manuscript,  1.  —  Plan 
of  chapters,  1.  —  Description  of  the  manuscript,  2.  —  The 
autobiographical  digressions,  3.  —  The  date  of  the  poem, 
5.  —  The  arguments,  7.  —  Patrons  of  the  work,  16.  —  The 
Prologue,  17.  — The  author's  mistress,  18. —  The  versifica- 
tion, 19.  —  J.  M.'s  use  of  satire,  23.  —  The  Newe  Metamor- 
phosis essentially  a  collection  of  stories,  27.  —  Reflection  of 
the  popular  taste,  28.  —  J.  M.  and  Ovid,  28.  —  Use  of  fab- 
liaux, 35.  —  Debt  to  Chaucer  and  to  fabliaux,  36.  —  Influ- 
ence of  Spenser,  39.  —  Stories  of  various  types,  40.  —  The 
authorities  referred  to,  41.  —  The  plan  of  the  work,  45.  —  The 
original  frame,  46.  —  A  frame  within  a  frame,  51.  —  The  in- 
vention or  adaptation  of  new  framework,  52.  —  A  change 
in  tone  and  plan  in  the  last  three  books,  57.  —  Summary  of 
J.  M's  plan  of  work,  60.  —  References  to  contemporaries, 
60.  —  Allusions  to  the  stage,  63.  —  Conclusion,  64. 

CHAPTER  II 

Critical  History  of  the  Mantjscript 65 

The  critical  history  of  the  manuscript,  65.  —  Francis  Godolphin 
Waldron,  65.  —  Joseph  Haslewood,  65.  —  The  British 
Museum,  66.  —  Halliwell-Phillipps,  67. —  The  Reverend 
Alexander  Grosart,  67. —  A.  H.  BuUen,  68.  —  Miss  Lucy 
Toulmin-Smith,  68. 

CHAPTER  III 

J.    M.    GENT 70 

The  author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  did  not  plan  to  conceal 
his  identity,  70.  —  Autobiographical  references,  72.  —  His 
service  as  a  soldier  in  Si)ain,  Ireland,  and  Flanders, 
72.  —  Strong  religious  convictions  and  sympathy  for  the  so- 
called  Puritans,  83.  —  Friendship  for  Essex,  87.  —  Familiarity 

xi 


xii  CONTENTS 

with  country  life  and  sports,  88.  —  Intimate  knowledge  of 
trees  and  flowers,  94.  —  Marked  tendency  to  explain  the 
material  uses  of  objects  mentioned,  97.  —  Varied  knowledge 
displayed  whenever  it  might  add  to  the  author's  assumption 
of  authority,  102.  —  Reference  to  Cambridge,  103.  —  Former 
literary  work,  103.  —  Respect  shown  to  parents,  103.  —  His 
home,  104.  —  His  style,  105.  —  Conclusion,  105. 

CHAPTER   IV 

The  Author  of  The  Nexoe  Metanwrphosis 107 

The  conclusions  arrived  at  in  the  preceding  chapter  an  aid  in 
identifying  J.  M.  gent.,  107.  —  The  literary  activity  of  the 
period,  107.  —  Assistance  in  this  problem  given  by  contem- 
poraries, 108.  —  The  four  names  mentioned  by  Waldron, 
108.  —  John  Mason,  109.  —  James  Martin,  109.  —  John 
Marston  of  importance  in  spite  of  Miss  Lucy  Toulmin-Smith's 
assertion  that  he  could  not  be  the  author,  110.  —  Value  of 
Marston's  work.  111.  —  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  miist  show 
the  faults   and   excellencies   of   Marston   if  it   is   his  work, 

113.  —  Conclusions    of    Chapter    III    applied    to    Marston, 

114.  —  His  right  to  term  himself  "gentleman,"  114.  —  His 
name  not    French,   115.  —  No   proof   that   be  was  a  soldier, 

115.  —  Not  a  man  of  religious  convictions  or  one  who  had 
sympathy  for  the  Puritans,  117.  —  No  love  for  country  life 
or  for  country  pursuits,  118.  —  Consideration  of  other  evi- 
dence, 118.  —  The  question  of  style,  119.  —  Conclusion,  120. 

CHAPTER  V 

The  Author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  (Continued). 

—  Jervase  Markham 122 

Markham's  ancestry,  122.  —  His  birth,  124.  —  Francis  Mark- 
ham,  124.  —  Jervase  Markham's  versatility,  125.  —  Per- 
sonality, 126.  —  Poetical  works,  127.  —  Dramatic  productions, 
129.  —  Industry  and  popularity,  129.  —  The  conclusions 
of  Chapter  III,  130.  —  The  initials  J.M.  and  Markham, 
131.  — The  title  "gent,"  132.  —  His  "Frenche"  name,  133. 
—  Markham,  a  soldier,  134.  —  Religious  devotion,  137.  — 
The  intermingling  of  coarse  jest  and  stern  morality,  139.  — 
Markham  and  Essex,  139.  —  Markham's  knowledge  of  the 
country,     140.  —  Use    of    authorities,     141.  —  Reference    to 


CONTENTS  xui 

Cambridge,  143.  —  Former  work  as  a  poet,  143.  —  Devotion 
to  his  father,  145.  —  His  home,  146.  —  His  style,  146.  —  The 
conclusions  of  Chapter  III  point  to  Markham,  148.  —  The 
fact  that  both  J.  M.  and  Markham  arraign  plagiarism  offers 
additional  proof,  149.  —  Markham's  autograph  letter  and 
the  manuscript,  150. — Hatred  of  Spain,  151.  —  Arraign- 
ment of  the  Papacy  and  its  followers,  152.  —  References  to 
the  drama,  153.  —  Lack  of  allusions  to  contemporaries,  153. 
—  Reasons  for  not  publishing  the  manuscript,  155.  —  Con- 
clusion, 158. 

CHAPTER  VI 

Selections  from  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 159 

Index 219 


OUTLINE  OF  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 
Volume  I.   Part  I 
ADDITIONAL  MANUSCRIPT  U,824 

Fos.  1-3.  —  The  two  title-pages  and  the  arguments  for  the  first 

six  books  of  Vol.  I.^ 
Fos.  4-4  verso.  —  Cupid  and  Momus  contend  for  the  honor  of 

being  patron  to  the  poet.     The  quarrel  is  settled  by  Cupid 

becoming  patron  of  the  parts  concerning  love  and  pleasure; 

Momus  of  the  satire.^    The  author  addresses  his  book.    He 

dedicates  it  to  the  two  gods. 
Fos.  5-6.  —  The  Prologue.'    The  author  speaks  of  the  nature  of 

his  work  and  asks  the  aid  of  gods  and  Matilda. 

BOOK  I 

Fos.  7-9.  —  The  gods  seek  adventure  in  Fayrie  (England).  At 
Mercury's  suggestion  lots  are  drawn  for  a  king.  Cupid  is 
chosen  and  deposed  by  Mars  and  the  other  gods.  Mercury  is 
driven  into  exile  to  Rome  because  of  his  plan.  Bacchus 
becomes  king  of  the  adventure,  and  Cupid  is  sent  to  Fayrie 
Land  to  announce  the  coming  of  the  gods  disguised  as  Egypt's 
king  and  his  train.  The  inhabitants  love  the  strangers. 
Saturn  alone  remains  in  Olympus.  (Ehzabeth,  as  Gloriana, 
is  praised,  fol.  8.) 

Fos.  9  verso-10.  —  Cupid  inflames  with  love  both  mortals  and 
gods.  Jove  woos  Salya,  who  orders  him  to  seek  her  as  a 
baboon  or  monkey.  Apollo  takes  by  trickery  Jove's  place. 
Salya  is  changed  to  a  monkey  by  the  deceived  lover. 

1  Cf.  Chap.  I,  pp.  1  ff.  2  cf.  Chap.  I,  p.  16. 

»  Cf.  Chap.  VI,  pp.  159  f. 

XV 


xvi  OUTLINE  OF 

Fos.  10-verso  11.  —  Bacchus  gives  a  feast.  He  ravishes  Clavia 
while  she  is  intoxicated.     (Digression  on  lust  and  drink.) 

Fos.  11-12.  —  Venus  becomes  angry  at  faithless  Mars.  She  leaves 
the  revel.  She  is  caught  in  a  fisherman's  net  and  kept  a 
prisoner.  The  gods  seek  her,  and  Bacchus  becomes  reconciled 
with  Cupid  and  Mercury.  (Satire  on  dissemblers,  fos.  11 
verso- 12.) 

Fos.  12-12  verso.  —  Cupid  turns  an  evil  nun  to  a  smoking  altar 
and  her  lover,  a  monk,  to  the  fire  on  it. 

Fos.  12  verso-13  verso.  —  Mercury  loves  and  betrays  Sabella, 
who  later  becomes  the  mistress  of  Bacchus. 

Fos.  13  verso-15  verso. — Jove  is  angry  at  jealous  Juno,  Vulcan, 
and  Mars.  He  woos  Venus  in  the  fisherman's  cave  in  the 
guise  of  a  sparrow.  Mars  discovers  them.  He  changes  the 
fisherman  to  a  kingfisher. 

Fol.  16  verso.  —  Bacchus  discovers  Sabella  had  been  loved  first  by 
Mercury.  He  changes  her  to  a  tamarisk  tree  and  her  husband, 
a  sodomite,  to  an  elder  tree. 

BOOK  II 

Fos.  16-19.  —  Jove  sends  for  Mercury  in  order  to  discover  erring 
mortals.  Alarpha  lived  in  Fayrie  Land.  She  plots  with  her 
lovers  to  kill  her  father.  Two  lovers  fight  for  her  and  are 
changed,  one  to  a  hound,  the  other  to  a  mastiff.  She  becomes 
a  hare.     (Attack  on  love,  fos.  17  verso  ff.) 

Fos.  19-21  verso.  —  Jove  goes  to  "Bernia  Lande"  (Ireland).  He 
finds  the  kerns  practicing  all  kinds  of  unnatural  vice  and 
their  king  living  with  a  bitch  by  whom  he  has  had  a  child. 
Jove  sinks  the  king's  city  into  an  abyss,  changes  the  cliild  to  a 
dog,  and  the  inhabitants  into  wolves  which  can  take  man's 
shape.  (Many  incidental  attacks  on  the  savage  state  of 
Ireland.) 

Fos.  21  verso-27  verso.  —  Apollo,  disguised,  woos  Clavia,  who 
had  been  ruined  by  Bacchus.     (Cf.  Book  I,  fos.  10  verso  ff.) 


THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS  xvil 

She  tells  the  god  of  a  greedy  shepherd,  Vulpex,  whose  dowerless 
daughter,  after  having  been  seduced,  had  married  a  gull. 
Apollo  woos  her  as  a  shepherd.  To  escape  a  mob,  led  by 
her  mother,  he  carries  her  to  Connaught  by  means  of  a  flying 
horse.  She  gains  Connaught  by  a  trick  of  having  the  sun 
remain  motionless  and  founds  Galway.  (Many  references  to 
Ireland,  and  digressions  on  vice,  rash  promises,  etc.) 

BOOK  III 

Fos.  28-29.  —  Jove  is  angered  at  Apollo,  because  he  had  kept  his 
chariot  in  the  sky  for  three  days  in  order  to  allow  Clavia  to 
win  a  kingdom.  This  had  prevented  Jove  from  visiting  at 
night  his  new  love  Hehnore. 

Fos.  29-29  verso.  —  Mars  and  the  other  gods  plot  against  the 
absent  Jove;  they  resent  the  rule  of  Cupid,  who  sends  Mercury 
to  get  assistance  from  Jove. 

Fos.  29  verso-36  verso.  —  Mercury,  being  requested,  tells  Jove 
and  Hehnore  two  stories:  one  of  MaUsco,  who  lusted  for  his 
own  daughter  and,  after  he  polluted  her,  cut  off  her  hands 
and  pulled  out  her  tongue  (fos.  29  verso-33  verso);  the 
second,  of  a  maiden  loved  by  Apollo,  for  whom  he  had  changed 
her  flocks  into  sheep  with  silver  fleece.  Their  child,  Chryses, 
married  the  son  of  Clavia  from  Connaught.  They  became 
the  parents  of  Hero.  Jove,  angry  at  Apollo,  sends  a  violent 
storm  and  drowns  Chrj'^ses  and  her  husband  returning  to 
Connaught.  (Digressions  concerning  hypocrites  and  the 
birth  of  lust.) 

BOOK  IV 

Fol.  37.  —  Jupiter  pays  no  attention  to  Cupid's  peril;  conse- 
quently, the  love  god,  in  defense,  shoots  his  arrows  at  his 
enemies. 

Fos.  37-37  verso.  —  Mars,  a  victim  of  Cupid,  loves  the  nymph, 
Lafigia.  After  various  metamorphoses,  he  wins  her  in  the 
guise  of  a  fish. 

Fos.  38-41  verso.  —  Bacchus,  the  next  victim,  meets  an  old  bawd. 


xviii  OUTLINE  OF 

She  tells  him  of  Puten  (tobacco),  formerly  loved  by  Mercury. 
(Digression  on  tobacco,  fos.  39-40.)  Bacchus  turns  her  girls 
to  spiders  and  the  old  bawd  to  a  top  which  boys  play  with. 
(Digression  on  virtue  and  prostitutes,  fos.  41-41  verso.) 

Fos.  42-43.  —  Bacchus  loves  Lyaeus.  She  refuses  him.  He 
turns  her  into  the  grapevine,  sacred  to  him  because  of  his  love. 
(Digression  on  wine.) 

Fos.  43-47  verso.  —  Pluto  is  also  inflamed  with  love  by  Cupid. 
Juno  had  discovered  Jove's  HeUnore  and  turned  her  into  a 
camel.  Before  this,  she  had  been  attacked  by  Vulcan.  Pluto 
loved  the  paramour  of  the  giant  born  of  this  attempted  rape, 
and  carried  her  to  hell.  The  giant  seeks  aid  from  liis  father 
Vulcan,  but  because  he  steals  a  golden  horseshoe,  he  loses 
his  eyesight.  He  curses  Vulcan  and  Venus,  and  is  made 
sport  of  by  hell. 

BOOK  V 

Fos.  48-49.  —  The  nine  daughters  of  the  Rhine  challenge  the 
Muses  to  a  contest  in  song.  An  old  man  with  a  dishonest 
advocate  is  chosen  as  judge.  (Digression  on  bribery  and 
lawyers.) 

Fos.  49-54.  —  Three  of  the  daughters  of  the  Rhine  tell  of  Amahna, 
daughter  of  Venus  and  Vulcan's  helper.  She  is  loved  by 
Neptune.  He  allows  her  to  taste  the  pleasures  of  both  sexes. 
Neptune  later  loves  the  nymph,  Thames.  He  takes  her  to 
his  palace  —  (digression  in  which  the  palace  is  described, 
fos.  50  verso  ff.)  —  where  she  submits  to  Amalina,  the  man- 
maid.  The  latter  is  consigned  to  hell;  the  former  becomes  the 
river  Thames,  later  wooed  by  a  giant,  Pons,  who  rapes  her. 
He  is  turned  to  London  Bridge.  (Digression  on  the  Thames, 
fol.  54.) 

Fos.  54-56  verso.  —  The  fourth  and  fifth  sisters  tell  of  the  Thames 
and  of  London. 

Fos.  56  verso-63  verso.  —  The  remaining  sisters  speak  of  a  feast 
given  by  the  garden  god.  (Digression  on  flowers  and  herbs, 
fos.  57  verso  ff.)     His  love,  Clare,  is  killed  by  a  boar  and 


THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS  xix 

turned  to  a  potato.  The  evil  Capernus  tries  to  rape  the  sleeping 
Ceres.  He  aims  an  arrow  by  mistake  at  Pan  and  is  changed 
into  a  goat. 

BOOK  VI 

Fos.  63-65  verso.  —  Melpomene,  the  first  of  the  Muses  to  speak, 

tells  of  a  fickle  wanton,  Taboretto. 
Fos.  65  verso-67  verso.  —  Clio  speaks  of  the  adventures  of  some 

pirates  after  peace  was  made  with  Spain,  who  were  turned  to 

sharks. 

Fos.  67  verso-69.  —  Euterpe  tells  of  Sabina,  who  had  entered  a 
nunnery,  but  left  it  for  the  stews.  She  consulted  a  witch  to 
procure  a  drug  to  kill  her  unborn  child.  (Digression  on 
witches  and  prostitutes.) 

Fos.  69-71.  —  ThaUa  gives  a  history  of  inventions  and  of  the 
progress  of  civihzation. 

Fos.  71-73  verso.  —  Terpsichore  relates  how  the  merchant  Pal- 
gradius  is  betrayed  in  his  absence  by  his  Mafe.  On  his  return, 
he  visits  a  marvelous  palace;  meets  the  devil  as  a  negro 
succubus;  and  finally  drives  his  wiie  to  a  fife  of  shame. 

Fos.  73  verso-76.  —  Erato  relates  how  Paroquita  first  married 
for  money,  then  for  love.  She  becomes  nurse  to  the  child  of 
a  duchess.  When  old  and  common,  she  panders  to  evil  appe- 
tites. She  makes  the  wife  of  the  young  ruler  unfaithful  by 
telling  her  the  duke  is  sexually  defective.  Lucina  changes 
the  bawd  to  a  parrot  which  tells  secrets  of  its  mistresses. 
(Digressions  on  the  influence  of  money,  on  midwives,  on  bawds, 
etc.) 

Fos.  76  verso-81  verso.  —  Polymnia  tells  of  witches  coming 
from  Ireland  to  Scotland;  thoir  attacks  on  James  and  the 
Puritans,  and  their  league  with  the  Romanists. 

Fos.  81-82.  —  Calliope  speaks  of  the  haughty  daughter  of  a  black- 
smith who  refused  Cupid,  and,  in  consequence,  was  turned  to 
a  peacock. 

Fos.  82-83  verso.  —  Erania  tells  how  the  people  in  "Stroade  in 
Kent"  threw  fish  tails  at  Bacchus  (he  turned  them  to  fish) 


XX  OUTLINE  OF 

and  of  those  who  eat  fowl  in  Lent  with  the  permission  of  the 
Pope. 
Fos.  83  verso-88  verso.  —  The  judges  take  bribes  from  the 
daughters  of  the  Rhine.  Jove  arraigns  them,  praises  true 
law,  and  changes  the  advocate  to  a  wolf,  his  helper  to  a  gnat, 
and  the  maidens  to  mermaids.  (Digression  on  bribery, 
injustice,  greed,  etc.) 


Volume  I.   Part  II 
ADDITIONAL  MANUSCRIPT  14,825 

BOOK  VII 

Fos.  1-1  verso.  —  The  arguments  are  given  for  the  six  books  of 
Part  II.i 

Fos.  2-9  verso.  —  Cupid,  because  Saturn  favors  Mars,  makes  the 
old  god  love  a  child  of  eight.  (Digression  on  age  and  youth.) 
Her  mother,  to  be  relieved  of  birth  pangs,  had  promised 
Minerv^a  to  keep  her  daughter  unmarried.  The  girl  spurns 
Saturn's  advances  when  he  seeks  to  ravish  her  whilst  in  bathing. 
Minerva  changes  her  to  an  olive  tree  (fol.  3  verso).  Eusham, 
the  daughter  of  the  river  Avon,  laughs  at  Saturn's  disappoint- 
ment. He  then  rapes  her.  A  child  is  born  with  one  eye,  to 
whom  Saturn  gives  a  pearl  for  the  missing  eye  (fol.  4).  One 
Eye,  the  son,  marries  Holland  and  has  two  sons,  one  Porcus, 
a  miser,  the  other  Costerus,  consumed  by  jealousy.  The 
former  plots  against  his  fath€T,  and  by  means  of  drink  and 
drugs  steals  the  eye  of  pearl.  (Digression  on  drunkenness 
and  undutiful  sons.)  He  cannot  sell  the  pearl,  but  in  spite  of 
his  pleas,  the  king  Mempricius  seizes  it  (fol.  7).  The  son 
next  turns  farmer  and  then  usurer.  He  leaves  Ms  ill-gotten 
wealth  to  churches  and  hospitals.  (Digression  on  farming, 
ill-gotten  wealth,  etc.) 

Fos.  9  verso-16.  —  Mempricius,    the  king  who    had    seized    the 

1  Cf.  Chap.  I,  pp.  8  S. 


THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS  xxi 

pearl,  was  lustful.  He  tempts  the  virtuous  Matilda  and 
banishes  her  husband.  She  tries  to  escape,  but  is  seized,  and 
her  husband  is  slain.  She  resists  the  king  and  his  bawd,  and 
in  order  to  save  herself  she  jumps  into  a  fire  made  to  celebrate 
his  birthday.  Juno  turns  her  to  a  salamander;  the  bawd  to  a 
cat. 

Fos.  16-18.  —  This  king  has  as  a  mistress  the  youngest  daughter 
of  the  bawd.  She  visits  him  by  night  and  by  mistake  smears 
her  face  so  that  it  is  black.  The  king  nearly  slaj^s  her.  She 
is  turned  to  a  tree;  the  king,  full  of  lust,  seeks  the  company 
of  beasts,  and  is  killed  by  wolves. 

Fos.  18-24  verso.  —  The  author  again  speaks  of  Porcus,  the  miser 
son  of  One  Eye;  of  a  man  of  Brentwxod  who  gelded  himself 
to  see  if  his  wife  were  virtuous;  and  of  a  fat  glutton  who  left 
his  corpse  to  surgeons  (fol.  19).  A  laborer  tells  of  One  Eye's 
second  son,  Costerus.  He  was  consumed  by  jealousy.  He 
forbids  his  wife  to  see  any  man.  She  deceives  him  with  an 
old  lover,  disguised  as  a  peddler  (digression  on  the  ease  with 
which  women  deceive  men);  with  the  god  Proteus,  disguised 
as  a  lobster;  with  a  Franciscan  friar  who  visits  her  concealed 
in  a  trunk;  and  ■nith  Mercury  who  carries  her  to  France  and 
turns  the  husband  to  a  milk-white  bull  in  the  forest  of  Calydon. 

Fos.  25-26.  —  Mercury  becomes  by  this  haison  the  father  of  two 
children.  To  show  his  divinity,  he  unwiUingly  gives  the 
mother  a  staff  for  the  son,  May,  which  can  transform  one 
into  whatever  one  desires.  The  mother  is  inadvertently 
changed  into  a  quail. 

Fos.  26-27  verso.  —  May  next  transforms  a  fish  thief  into  an  otter 
and  some  painted  ladies  to  glow^'orms. 

Fos.  27  verso-29  verso.  —  Anolfus  at  that  time  was  emperor  of 
Germany.  (Digression  on  popes,  drink,  and  alchemy.) 
Phrixius  made  him  a  drinking  glass  which  would  turn  black 
if  it  contained  poison.  The  goldsmiths,  because  of  jealousy, 
summoned  Ma3^     He  changed  Phrixius  into  an  image. 

Fos.   29    verso-32.  —  May    visits    Britain,    sees    strange    sights, 


xxii  OUTLINE  OF 

meets  Merlin,  and  takes  part  in  a  cherry-stealing  prank  at 
Cambridge. 

Fos.  32  verso-35  verso.  —  May,  returning  to  France,  finds  his 
sister  a  pelican,  because  she  had  betrayed  the  secret  that  a 
cliild  of  Apollo  and  a  Lady  Drant  was  of  both  sexes.  He 
changes  his  sister  to  a  mulberry  tree,  her  children  to  silkworms. 
The  gods  are  angry  at  his  presumption.  His  father  Mercury 
transforms  him  to  the  sacred  sycamore. 

Fos.  35  verso-40.  —  The  scene  returns  to  the  court  of  Anolfus. 
Jack  Gullion  and  his  family,  because  of  their  drunkeimess 
and  impiety,  are  metamorphosed  by  Bacchus.  (Digression 
on  drink.)  Xadleus,  a  magician,  and  others  who  are  in  prison 
are  punished  for  their  crimes.  (Attacks  on  swearing,  dice, 
and  evil  women.) 

BOOK  IX 

Fos.  40  verso-49.  —  Arabianus,  king  of  a  land  near  that  of  the 
pygmies,  falls  in  love  with  the  emperor  of  Germany's  daughter, 
whose  picture  he  has  seen.  They  are  married,  and  he  is 
killed  in  a  single  combat  with  the  warring  king  of  Egypt. 
Before  the  combat  he  had  received  an  enchanted  ring.  His 
wife  leaps  into  his  funeral  pyre  and  becomes  the  Phoenix. 
(Description  of  funeral  rites.) 

Fos.  49-53.  —  The  author  defends  women,  giving  many  examples 
of  when  they  are  virtuous. 

Fos.  53-56  verso.  —  A  friend  betrays  the  absent  husband,  who, 
on  his  return,  kills  him.  The  husband  confesses  the  murder 
to  his  wife,  who  brings  him  to  execution.  The  wife  is  turned 
to  the  salmon  with  red  flesh,  because  she  had  caused  her 
husband's  death,  her  lover  to  the  pike,  and  her  husband  to  the 
porpoise,  both  of  which  pursue  her. 

BOOK  X 

Fos.  57-59  verso.  —  Apollo,  meeting  the  exiled  Mercury,  is  aston- 
ished at  liis  poverty.  Apollo  speaks  of  the  golden  age;  Mer- 
cury  repUes   with    a   description   of    the   terrible    vice    now 


THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS  XXlU 

prevalent  throughout  the  world.    Apollo  inquires  concerning 

Italy. 
Fos.  59  verso-76   verso.  —  Mercury   tells   of   the   wickedness    of 

the  popes  and  of  the  Roman  CathoUc  Church.     (Detailed 

attack  on  the  Papacy.) 
Fos.   76    verso-77.  —  Mercury    speaks    of    two    beautiful    royal 

nymphs,  Canta  and  CaUna.     He  loves  the  former. 
Fos.  77-90.  —  To  pass  the  time,  he  next  describes  a  gull  who 

misused  words  and  aped  fine  manners.     Mercury,  as  a  poor 

scholar,  served  the  gull.     He  tells  of  some  merry  men,  with 

shrewish  wives,  who  were  punished  by  Vulcan  because  they 

sang  of  Venus'  deception.     (Digressions  on  lack  of  learning 

and  faults  of  women.) 
Fos.  90-91.  —  Apollo  and  Mercury  woo  and  win  the  fair  Canta 

and  Calena,  from  whom  all  poets  are  sprung.     (A  Ust  of 

Enghsh  poets.) 
Fos.  91-91  verso.  —  The  Pope  is  the  prince  of  poets  because  of  his 

marvelous  inventions.     (Further  arraignment  of  the  Church 

of  Rome.) 

BOOK  XI 

Fos.  92-93.  —  The  author  praises  friendship.  He  gives  a  Ust  of 
faithful  friends.  He  cautions  the  reader  against  trusting  too 
hastily. 

Fos.  93-101.  —  OrgagUo  and  Rodrigo  were  friends  for  seven  years. 
They  married  sisters.  The  latter  had  a  daughter;  the  former, 
childless,  spent  his  fortune.  In  Rodrigo's  absence,  Orgaglio 
plots  against  him  and  betrays  his  wife.  Rodrigo  and  his 
wife  both  die  of  grief.  Orgaglio  seizes  their  property,  abuses 
their  child  —  (digressions  on  evil  executors)  —  and  finally 
becomes  a  powerful  justice.  Cupid,  because  Jove  had  not 
aided  him  when  he  was  attacked  by  Mars  and  his  confederates, 
inspires  Jove  with  love  for  the  abused  daughter.  To  win  her, 
Jove  seeks  employment  from  Orgaglio,  and  after  being  abused 
and  cheated,  transforms  liim  to  a  serpent.  (Digression  on 
the  landscape  of  the  vicinity.) 


xxiv  OUTLINE  OF 

Fos.  101-108  verso.  —  Cupid  has  no  power  over  Juno.  She  seeks 
her  husband,  after  putting  on  her  bridal  robes,  in  various 
places.  (Digression  describing  Corycus'  cave.)  She  finds 
Jupiter,  and  after  recriminations  they  become  reconciled. 

BOOK    XII 

Fos.  109-112  verso.  —  Venus  upbraids  Cupid,  because  he  has 
driven  the  gods  from  Olympus.  She  tells  liim  women  love  a 
bold  wooer.  He  twits  her  for  her  faithlessness,  but  brings 
Mars  back  to  his  mother. 

Fos.  112  verso-114.  —  Jove  is  still  angry  at  Mars  because  of 
his  rebellion.  He  shoots  his  thunderbolt.  War  takes  place; 
many  mortals  are  killed,  and  heaven  bursts  in  flames;  hence 
our  dog  daj^s.  Jove  calls  a  parliament  and  a  star  chamber. 
Cupid  is  banished  for  twelve  years.  Gloriana  (Ehzabeth)  is 
to  be  made  a  goddess  after  death.  The  son  of  Roderiga  and 
Jove,  killed  in  the  battle,  is  transformed  into  a  nectarine. 

Fos.  114-116  verso.  —  Heaven  is  at  peace,  but  famine  and  misery 
depopulate  the  earth.  Merlin  is  consulted  by  a  gentleman 
of  note  by  means  of  a  page.  This  page,  by  disguise,  seeks  to 
trick  MerUn.  He  suffers  both  deaths  prophesied.  MerUn 
tells  of  Albion's  princes,  of  the  first  Stuart,  of  the  death  of 
Prince  Henry,  and  of  the  Princess  EUzabeth's  marriage. 

Fos.  116  verso-123.  —  Mars  and  many  allies  were  wounded  in 
the  war  of  the  gods.  Venus,  revengeful,  looks  for  her  child 
Amalcius  in  hell,^  the  entrance  of  which  is  in  Italy.  Venus 
sees  the  first  negro  in  company  with  the  popes  and  Pluto. 
She  gives  the  popes  a  three  days'  jubilee,  at  which  Rome 
rejoices.  Amalcius,  to  disguise  himself,  becomes  a  monk. 
He  invents  powder  and  guns.  He  loved  a  succubus  of  Lucifer. 
(Attacks  on  Roman  Catholicism.)  The  Pope,  aided  by  the 
Jesuits,  stirs  up  the  Spanish  king  to  attack  England.  Pope 
Joan  has  an  incubus,  and  their  child  is  Guy  Fawkes.  The 
author  attacks  Spain  and  the  papists. 

1  His  story  is  told  in  Book  V.     He  is  the  man-maid  who  ruined 
Thames. 


THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS  xxv 

Fos.  123-136  verso.  —  The  story  of  the  Armada,  its  preparations 
and  expectations,  is  told.  The  fleet  is  shattered  by  a  storm. 
The  Enghsh  fleet  is  described,  and  Drake  is  praised.  The 
EngUsh  strategy  is  explained,  and  a  description  is  given  of  the 
army  at  Tilbur3^  (Leicester  is  attacked.)  The  defeat  of  the 
Armada  is  described.  Pluto  refuses  to  let  the  Spaniards 
come  to  hell  for  fear  they  might  rape  Proserpina.  Jove  turns 
them  to  cod  and  herrings  which  Spaniards  still  seek.  The 
loss  of  Spain  is  pictured,  and  the  queen  is  praised.  (Captain 
Cox  is  referred  to.) 

Fol.  136  verso.  —  The  praise  of  the  queen  is  interrupted  by  news 
of  her  death. 

Volume  II 
ADDITIONAL  MANUSCRIPT  14,826 

BOOK  I 

Fos.  2  verso-5  verso.  —  Jove  mourns  for  Cupid,  who  has  come  to 
"Fayrie  Tande"  (England).  The  author  describes  England 
—  ("Speede"  is  mentioned) — its  riches,  women,  landscape, 
etc.  He  praises  Gloriana  (EUzabeth)  and  James.  (Attacks 
on  the  parasite.) 

Fos.  5  verso-8.  —  Cupid  tries  to  be  a  shepherd.  Because  of 
his  cruel  treatment,  he  causes  the  death  by  drowning  of  his 
landlord's  son  and  the  girl  he  loved.  They  are  changed  to 
carps.  The  father,  before  his  own  death,  eats  his  son. 
(Digression  on  carps.) 

Fos.  8-9  verso.  —  Cupid  next  comes  to  a  stream  in  which  lads  are 
in  swamming.  They  attack  him.  He  turns  them  into  ducks, 
"Morecocks,"  and  "  stansticks."     (Digression  on  fishing.) 

Fos.  9  verso-12.  —  He  next  ser\'es  a  pander,  Paterno,  who  lives 
by  his  wife's  shame.     (Digression  on  fashions,  vice,  etc.) 

Fos.  12-21.  —  Juno,  aided  by  Occasio,  still  hates  Cupid.  The 
poet  passes  over  many  of  the  god's  adventures.     Cupid  serves 


xxvi  OUTLINE  OF 

Plancus,  a  soldier,  who  loves  Zidia.  Plancus  despairs  of 
success.  He  turns  poet  and  sends  his  page  Umbrellia,  who 
because  she  loved  him  had  followed  him  disguised,  to  sing  to 
his  lady.  Zidia  loves  the  disguised  page.  She  finally  marries 
Plancus,  who  discovers  the  identity  of  his  page  and  now  woos 
her  faded  to  a  shadow.  His  wife  and  her  lover  plan  to  kill 
him.  Cupid  changes  Plancus  to  an  eagle,  the  wife  to  a  tortoise, 
and  the  lover  to  a  crane.  Both  the  crane  and  the  eagle  hate 
the  tortoise.  (Digression  concerning  the  death  of  Aeschylus, 
killed  by  an  eagle  dropping  a  tortoise  on  his  head,  thinking 
it  was  a  rock,  fol.  21.) 

BOOK  II 

Fos.  21-25.  —  Two  children,  Dulcimel  and  Amoretta,  are  born  in 
Arcadia.  Their  early  life  and  love  are  described.  Amoretta 
has  another  wooer  from  Fayrie,  who  tries  in  vain  to  win  her 
by  gifts  and  poems.  She  marries  Dulcimel,  but  they  are 
childless. 

Fos.  25-26  verso.  —  Dulcimel  finds  a  weeping  child  (Cupid), 
whom  he  adopts  and  calls  Eros.  His  kiss  inflames  his  foster 
parents,  to  whom  later  a  daughter  is  born.  Cupid  also  gives 
them  prosperity.     (Digression  on  absurd  fashions.) 

Fos.  26  verso-31  verso.  —  The  king  sends  Dulcimel  to  the 
Turks.  On  his  return,  he  frees  an  old  knight  from  some 
ruffians,  and  is  wooed  by  his  evil  wife.  Diana  turns  her  to  a 
wanton  "wagtail"  (fol.  29  verso).  In  his  absence,  the  king 
and  Mars,  the  latter  in  various  disguises,  try  to  deceive  Amo- 
retta.    Cupid  helps  her  to  resist  until  her  husband  returns. 

Fos.  31  verso-36.  —  Mars  remains  at  their  reunion  feast.  Dul- 
cimel tells  of  his  adventures.  He  speaks  of  the  career  of  the 
English  pirate  Ward,  an  unbeliever.  Mars  tells  of  EUzabeth 
and  of  the  Romanist  plots  against  her,  especially  those  in 
Ireland. 

Fos.  36-37  verso.  —  Mars  blesses  the  virtuous  couple.  Eros  weds 
their  daughter. 


THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS  xxvii 

BOOK  III 

Fos.  38-46.  —  Jove,  in  order  to  restore  Cupid  to  heaven,  tells  him 
to  shoot  only  cold,  blunt  arrows;  the  result  is  that  birth  and 
marriages  cease.  (Digression  on  the  pranks  of  Cupid.)  The 
gods  hold  a  council.  They  ask  Jove  to  punish  Cupid.  He 
refuses  and  attacks  them  for  their  former  plots.  (Digression 
on  the  power  of  kings.)  He  finally  recalls  Cupid,  and  the 
world  prospers.  Cupid's  new  love,  Melamorretta,  is  made 
queen  of  pure  love;  Venus  of  dalliance. 

Fos.  46-50.  —  Mars  is  still  angry  at  Cupid.  He  woos  an  e\i] 
nun  Adiana  (attacks  on  Roman  Cathohcism)  and  fights  with 
a  groom,  her  lover.  The  latter,  hit  by  a  stone,  becomes  the 
source  of  a  river.  Adiana  had  been  first  wooed  by  Vulcan. 
Venus  turns  her  to  the  myrtle. 

Fos.  51  ver 80-57.  —  The  author  continues  his  attacks  on  the 
"  Cloystred-mates "  by  telling  of  the  Abbot  Bolton  who,  to 
escape  a  flood,  built  a  tower  to  which  he  retired  with  provisions 
and  "sacred"  books.  (Attacks  on  superstition  and  the 
Papacy.)  A  search  for  a  miller  and  his  mistress,  hiding  in  a 
cave,  causes  the  abbot  to  think  the  flood  has  come.  (Digres- 
sion on  age  marrying  youth.)  He  cuts  the  ropes  of  the  boat 
he  had  placed  on  top  of  the  tower  and  is  killed  by  the  faU. 

BOOK  IV 

Fos.  57  verso-64.  —  The  author  again  speaks  of  the  Thames. 
He  tells  of  Neptune's  love  for  her.  They  have  a  daughter 
Amwell  who  can  change  her  form,  and  in  this  way  she  avoids 
wooers.  (Digression  on  cowards.)  Rodon,  son  of  Proteus 
and  a  nun,  is  advised  by  his  father  to  seize  Amwell  and  hold 
her  with  no  fear  of  her  transformations.  He  wins  her,  and 
their  child  Beely  weds  the  stream  "  Bardf eildian."  Their 
elder  son  weds  Molyno.  After  his  death,  she  gives  herself 
to  his  brother.     Neptune  takes  revenge  on  their  secret  love. 

Fos.  64  verso-65  verso.  —  A  friend  of  the  author  tells  him  of 
how  he  was  captured  by  the  Spaniards;  had  served  in  a  galley; 


xxviii  OUTLINE  OF 

was  seized  by  the  Turks  and  was  taken  to  Egypt  whence  he 
escaped.  He  agrees  to  tell  of  what  he  has  seen. 
Fos.  65  verso-72.  —  This  friend  tells  three  stories.  He  relates 
how  an  artisan  marries  the  base  daughter  of  the  king.  Be- 
cause of  his  wealth  and  a  marvelous  garden,  he  becomes  proud. 
Apollo  punishes  him.  The  second  story  gives  the  reward  of  a 
poor  but  generous  man  who  receives  the  disguised  Apollo 
with  true  hospitality.  The  third  gives  the  history  of  a  mush- 
room squire  who  cuts  down  a  grove  sacred  to  Diana  in  order 
to  gratify  his  whims.  (Digressions  on  trees,  upstarts,  spend- 
thrifts, etc.) 

Fol.  72.  —  Another  friend  promises  to  tell  some  stories. 

BOOK  V 

Fos.  72  verso-73  verso.  —  TMs  visitor  says  that  at  childbirth 
one  finds  the  most  gossip.  He  introduces  a  midwdfe  and  her 
friends. 

Fos.  73  verso-76  verso.  —  The  midwife  tells  of  Lunglie,  a  black- 
smith, who  robs  an  orchard  and  marries  an  old  woman  for 
money.  (Digression  on  fooHsh  widows.)  Lunglie  marries 
again.  He  keeps  his  grain  from  the  starving  poor  until  he  is 
ruined  by  grain  brought  from  Denmark.  He  poisons  himself 
and  is  turned  by  Ceres  into  a  rat.     (Digression  on  suicide.) 

Fos.  76  verso-77.  —  All  the  women  present  agree  to  tell  a  story. 

Fos.  77-78.  —  Winifred  relates  how  she  was  ravished  by  a  gallant 
gentleman  in  satin.  The  mid\\dfe  likes  the  story  and  calls  on 
Demure,  a  chaste  matron,  for  the  next. 

Fos.  78  v^rso  80.  —  Another  interrupts  with  a  tale  of  how  she 
was  ravished  on  the  way  to  a  wedding.  Her  husband,  a 
fiddler,  was  forced  to  play  whilst  she  was  assaulted.  (Digres- 
sion on  cuckolds.) 

Fos.  80-81  verso.  —  Demure  tells  of  virtuous  Piscator,  drowned 
whilst  fishing.  His  wife  sees  his  hat  on  the  water  and  dives 
for  it.     Cupid  turns  them  to  "Dop-cHcks." 

Fos.  81  verso-82  verso.  —  "The  Lady  in  Bed"  affirms  the  truth 


THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS  xxix 

of  this  story.  She  tells  of  a  lover,  Pulex,  who  prayed  to  be 
her  necklace,  etc.  He  finally  wants  to  be  the  flea  on  her  dog, 
in  order  to  have  its  freedom.  He  becomes  the  flea,  and  is 
j'et  found  as  a  compainion  of  women. 

Fos.  82  verso-84  verso.  —  The  next  tells  of  Leda  coming  to 
Germany  with  her  twins.  Because  a  woman  called  her  vile 
names  for  bearing  twins,  Jove  makes  the  offender  bring  forth 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  childxen  at  one  birth.  Her  tomb 
and  that  of  her  children  can  be  seen  near  The  Hague  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  English  camps. 

Fos.  84  verso-87.  —  The  women  wish  to  go  to  the  army  camps. 
The  hostess  persuades  them  to  stay  with  her  all  night. 

Fos.  87-94  verso.  —  One  tells  of  the  marriage  of  Venus  and  Vulcan. 
Venus,  in  order  to  deceive  Mars,  sends  her  husband  for  the 
"Box  of  her  Maidenhead."  Vulcan,  against  her  orders,  opens 
it  and  a  butterfly  escapes.  Venus  declares  her  treasure  is 
lost.     Venus  turns  the  prattling  wives  to  butterflies. 

BOOK  VI 

Fos.  95-96.  —  The  author  has  "ColUck."  He  visits  the  various 
springs  to  be  cured.     He  likes  Malvern. 

Fos.  96-98  verso.  —  He  tells  of  the  irreverent  people  near  this 
place.  He  attacks  the  ignorant  clergy,  and  speaks  of  one 
who  mispronounces  many  words.  (Digression  on  ilUterate 
clergy.) 

Fos.  98-101  verso.  —  He  speaks  of  an  old  hag  near  Malvern  who 
pretends  to  cure  with  one  remedy.  (Attacks  on  quack  doc- 
tors.) He  next  tells  of  a  maiden  who  was  recompensed  by 
her  betrayer  by  a  pretended  remedy  for  all  diseases.  Later 
she  becomes  famous  and  is  sought  by  the  same  man  in  order 
to  remove  a  fishbone  lodged  in  his  throat.  Aesculapius  turns 
them  both  to  horse-leeches. 

Fos.  101  verso-107.  —  The  author  leaves  Malvern.  He  meets 
a  man  who  has  a  charm  to  snare  rabbits.  He  next  tells  of  a 
mother  \\dth  an  ungrateful  son,  and  an  anecdote  of  a  rich 


XXX  OUTLINE  OF 

man  with  four  foolish  sons.  (Digression  on  filial  love.)  He 
relates  how  a  father  gave  all  his  property  to  his  ungrateful 
eldest  son. 

Fos.  107-110  verso.  —  The  author  returns  home.  His  friend 
Russius  has  lost  his  wife  and  sought  her  in  all  army  camps  and 
evil  resorts.  Russius,  hungry  and  poor,  breaks  the  branch 
of  a  tree,  only  to  hear  the  voice  of  his  wife.  She  tells  him  of 
her  evil  life  and  of  her  change  to  the  "medler"  tree  because 
she  was  a  gossip.  The  author  wonders  that  Russius  should 
tell  his  story.     (Digression  on  false  friends.) 


BOOK  VII 

Fos.  111-114,  —  The  author  turns  for  material  to  France.  He 
tells  how  a  French  gallant  and  his  mistress  kill  the  faithful 
wife  who  was  childless  and  had  prayed  to  Favonius  to  make 
her  pregnant.  Her  prayers  had  been  overheard,  and  she  had 
been  suspected  of  having  a  lover.  (Digression  on  the  abuse 
of  love  and  of  wine.) 

Fos.  114-118  verso.  —  A  friend  craves  death  because  of  unrequited 
love.  The  author  tells  him  three  tales,  exemplifying  abuses: 
First,  of  how  an  evil  man  tried  to  rape  a  girl  in  church  and 
was  turned  to  a  baboon;  second,  of  two  fighters  who  foUow  a 
prostitute  to  a  tavern  —  both  are  killed  in  a  duel  which  follows; 
third,  of  Swynburnus,  the  gambler,  who  kills  himself  when 
fortune  proves  fickle.     (Digression  on  gambling.) 

Fos.  118  verso-123  verso.  —  He  next  tells  his  companion  of  the 
Cadiz  expedition,  of  the  number  of  the  ships,  the  sacking  of 
the  town,  the  ransom,  the  burning  of  the  Spanish  ships,  of  the 
destruction  of  Faro,  etc.  A  dove  gives  a  good  omen  for  the 
return  voyage.     Medina  praises  the  Enghsh. 

Fos.  123  verso-127  verso.  —  Mendoza,  a  youth  of  Cadiz,  wishes 
to  marry.  His  mother  objects.  (Attacks  on  women.)  He  is 
killed  by  the  English.  The  mother  curses  everything  con- 
cerned in  his  death.  She  tells  of  the  sufferings  of  a  woman 
in  bearing  and  bringing  up  a  son. 


THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS  xxxi 

BOOK  VIII 

Fos.   128-129.  —  The  author  speaks  again  of  Cadiz,   Faro,   and 

Lotha. 
Fos.   129-131.  —  The  Shipmaster  proposes  that  his  companions 

tell  stories.     A  prize  is  offered,  and  the  first  lot  is  drawn  by 

the  parson.     (Digression  on  schools.) 

Fos.  131-133.  —  The  Master  tells  of  Parson  Darcie,  who  got  his 
dinner  and  wine  for  nothing,  and  who  was  finally  hung.  The 
Chaplain  resents  this  story. 

Fos.  133-138.  —  The  Chaplain  speaks  seriously  of  plots,  "divine 
and  profane,"  and  of  plantations  in  Virginia  and  Ireland. 
He  praises  the  king.  The  Master  calls  him  a  Puritan,  and 
the  Captain  settles  the  quarrel. 

Fos.  138-140  verso.  —  The  Surgeon  speaks  next.  His  remark 
that  all  women  are  bad  stirs  up  resentment.  The  company 
takes  sides.  The  Surgeon  tells  of  a  gull  with  his  hair  dressed 
in  horns  (attack  on  fashions)  who  returns  home  to  find  his 
wife  with  a  lover.  He  is  paid  for  the  injury  to  his  honor 
with  his  own  money. 

Fos.  140  verso-145  verso.  —  The  Captain  speaks  of  a  virtuous 
wife  who  spurns  Sansfer,  a  treacherous  friend  who  lives  on 
her  husband's  bounty.  He  tempts  her  with  lines  from 
Orlando  Furioso,  with  a  marvelous  pictured  casket,  and  with 
letters.  She  tells  her  husband.  Sansfer  confesses  his  love, 
and  is  tossed  in  a  blanket.     He  becomes  a  buzzard. 

Fos.  145  verso-146  verso.  —  The  Boatswain  tells  of  Dorothea, 
who  cruelly  drove  his  brother  to  commit  suicide.  Venus 
turned  him  to  a  mistletoe  and  the  girl  to  a  cucumber,  which, 
ripe,  shoots  out  its  seeds  when  touched.  Venus  also  punishes 
Dorothea's  brother  and  sister  who  attack  her. 

Fos.  147-150  verso.  —  The  Gunner's  Mate  relates  how  a  nobleman 
plans  to  marry  his  eldest  son  Alphonsus  to  his  neighbor's 
daughter.  The  son  secretly  ruins  the  girl,  and  then  he  travels 
until  they  are  old  enough  to  marry.  He  is  lost  and  is  made  a 
galley  slave  by  the  Spaniards.    He  escapes  and  returns  home 


xxxii  OUTLINE  OF 

in  time  for  the  wedding  of  liis  younger  brother  to  his  betrothed. 
She  recognizes  him  by  a  ring.  The  Pope  gives  her  to  the 
elder  brother;  her  lands  to  the  younger.  Alphonsus  dies,  and 
the  Pope  gives  the  girl  to  his  brother.  Because  of  their  lust, 
they  are  changed  to  parsnips.  (Attacks  on  Spain  and  the 
Pope.) 

BOOK  IX 

Fos.  151-152.  —  The  author  praises  women,  and  gives  Elizabeth 
as  an  example  to  all.     (Satire  on  the  Welsh.) 

Fos.  152-156.  —  A  "Voluntarie  Gent"  tells  how  a  merchant  is 
forced  to  leave  his  wife  of  three  years.  She  pretends  grief. 
Corncaput,  in  order  to  escape  the  watch,  takes  refuge  in  her 
house  which  he  finds  open.  The  maid  leads  him  to  the  bed  of 
her  mistress  who  was  waiting  for  her  lover.  She  does  not 
discover  her  mistake  because  of  the  darkness.  The  next  day 
she  tries  to  have  liim  arrested  when  he  comes  to  her  shop. 
He  shows  her  a  ring  she  had  given  to  him  and  becomes  her 
lover. 

Fos.  156-161  verso.  —  A  "Young  Gent,"  who  came  to  Cadiz 
because  of  love,  relates  how  a  captain  scorned  Cupid.  Cupid 
makes  him  love  a  friend's  Avife  whom  he  woos  in  vain.  He 
goes  to  the  Spanish  Main  in  search  of  gold.  (Drake  is  referred 
to.)  He  returns  to  find  his  love  in  her  coffin.  He  visits  the 
tomb  at  night  and  finds  her  ahve.  She  remains  with  him.  The 
husband  finally  discovers  the  treachery. 

Fos.  162-166  verso.  —  The  Steward  makes  sport  of  women. 
He  jests  about  the  Captain's  conduct  at  Cadiz.  He  tells  of  a 
wanton  wife  who  pubhcly  shamed  her  husband.  The  Master 
declares  this  story  is  worse  than  those  of  Italy.  The  Steward 
replies  with  another  indecent  anecdote. 

Fos.  166  verso-168  verso.  —  The  Gunner  tells  of  a  youth  who 
finds  that  his  love,  liis  sister,  and  his  mother  are  all  wanton. 

Fos.  169-171.  —  The  Master-Mate  tells  of  the  lust  of  MessaUna. 

Fos.  171-173.  —  The  Cook  relates  how  Nostam,  who  had  skill  in 
astronomy  and  medicine,  betrayed  a  young  wife  in  her  hus- 


THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS  xxxiii 

band's  absence  by  pretending  her  unborn  child  was  not  per- 
fectly formed.  His  own  wife  later  discovered  he  was  diseased. 
He  was  turned  to  the  Orchis. 

Fos.  173-177.  —  The  "Apprentice"  of  London,  who  had  run  away 
from  his  master,  tells  of  some  merchants  and  their  wives  at 
the  White  Harte  Inn  at  St.  Albans.  They  made  a  wager  in 
which  the  largest  bed  in  England  plays  a  part.  Three  lovers 
of  their  wives,  who  had  followed  them,  deceived  the  merchants 
whilst  drunk.  Tlie  narrator  demands  the  prize  for  the  best 
story, 

Fos.  177-181  verso.  —  The  Master  urges  the  bashful  "Drum" 
to  continue  the  contest.  He  speaks  of  a  clever  doctor  who 
wins  a  rich  wddow  by  pretending  he  is  successful  in  his  pro- 
fession. She  first  tries  him  in  various  ways.  Her  maid 
betrays  her.  After  marriage  she  becomes  haughty.  (Digres- 
sions on  false  pride,  quacks,  and  fashions.)  The  wife  is 
poisoned  by  mistake  by  a  drug  intended  for  a  rich  baron  who 
plotted  to  murder  his  wife.  The  baron  is  given  the  poison 
when  ill  by  his  unsuspecting  wife. 

Fos.  181  verso-183.  —  The  "Clarke  of  the  Bande"  affirms  that 
men  tempt  women  and  then  blame  them  if  they  Usten.  He 
tells  of  the  son  of  Gaffer  Huh-huh  who  made  pretense  to 
fashion.  (Digression  on  flattery  and  evil  times.)  He  takes 
his  falcon  to  church,  and  is  punished  by  Diana. 

Fos.  183-185.  —  The  Purser  states  he  knows  many  stories.  He 
intended  first  to  tell  of  a  youth  married  to  a  witch,  who  could 
make  orchards  bear  in  winter,  etc.  She  makes  the  youth's 
father  young.  They  deceive  and  kill  the  husband.  The 
Purser  then  tells  of  an  untruthful  prentice  (digression  on 
lying,  evil  parents,  courtiers,  etc.)  — w^ho  becomes  a  courtier. 

Fos.  185-188. —  The  Trumpet  tells  of  the  daughter  of  the  nun 
Adiana  and  Mars.^  Proteus  takes  her  to  America.  Neptune 
wins  her  from  Proteus  and  removes  her  to  Trinidad.  (Descrip- 
tion  of   Trinidad.)     Proteus,   in   revenge,    by   means   of   an 

1  Cf.  Vol.  II,  fos.  46  ff. 


xxxiv  OUTLINE  OF 

oyster  kills  her  while  she  is  bathing.     Neptune  takes  vengeance 
on  the  oyster. 

Fos.  188-190  verso.  —  The  Lieutenant  first  speaks  of  his  youth 
and  education.  He  tells  of  a  lawyer  who,  when  he  became 
judge,  decided  a  case  against  his  former  decision.  (Attacks 
on  lawyers.) 

Fos.  190  verso-192  verso.  —  The  Ancient  tells  of  a  duke's 
daughter  stolen  by  a  pope.  She  is  rescued  by  a  forester. 
She  marries  and  bears  a  child  who  is  smothered  by  its  nurse. 
(Attacks  careless  mothers.)  The  nurse  substitutes  her  child. 
The  duke  discovers  his  daughter  by  a  birthmark  on  her  breast. 
The  nurse  is  put  to  death  by  her  son  when  she  tells  him  of  her 
deceit. 

Fos.  192  verso-194.  —  Land  is  sighted.  The  Master  becomes 
the  judge  and  gives  the  prize  to  the  Cook.  The  Gunner 
laments  the  lack  of  time  for  his  tale. 


BOOK  X 

Fos.  194  verso-196.  —  The  author  lays  aside  his  "sportfull 
Muse." 

Fos.  194-198  verso.  —  He  speaks  of  the  Romanist  plots  against 
Ehzabeth.  (Praises  of  Elizabeth  and  James.)  He  tells  of 
the  Bye  Plot. 

Fos.  198  verso-207.  —  The  history  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot  is 
given  in  detail. 

Fos.  207-221.  —  The  author  tells  of  the  fate  of  Fawkes  and  Garnet. 
A  witch  takes  him  to  hell.  (Digression  on  those  in  hell.) 
She  tells  him  of  the  first  pope  and  of  Ecclesia  Romana.  He 
returns  to  earth. 

Fos.  221-233  verso.  —  He  continues  his  attacks  on  the  Roman 
CathoUcs,  especially  on  the  Jesuits.  He  closes  by  stating  he 
has  written  this  book  against  the  "CathoUque  Church." 


THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS  xxxv 

BOOK  XI 

Fos.  234-236.  —  The  author  tells  of  the  drinking  at  Stratford-bowe 
during  the  "Greene-goose-fay re."  The  visitors  all  become 
drunk.  (Attacks  excess  in  drinking.)  Bacchus  comes  to 
prevent  the  riot  and  fighting.  (Digression  on  the  friendships- 
of  drunkards.) 

Fos.  236-240  verso.  —  The  author  blames  the  justices  for  the 
taverns.  They  accept  presents  from  the  iimkeepers  and 
refuse  to  prosecute  them  for  their  lawlessness  and  the  evils 
caused  by  drinking.  All  classes  are  now  addicted  to  drinking. 
The  custom  of  drinking  healths  is  arraigned.  Bacchus  is 
angered  at  the  drunkenness  at  the  fair.  He  changes  the  crowd 
to  geese;   hence  the  name  of  the  fair. 

Fos.  240-246.  —  The  author  declares  gluttony  is  the  younger 
brother  of  drink.  It  is  found  in  all  classes  and  kills  more 
than  war.  He  tells  of  a  young  friar  who  ruins  himself  by 
giving  a  feast  for  his  abbot.  A  neighbor,  Brawl,  who  loves 
lawsuits  and  speaks  in  dialect,  is  one  of  the  guests.  The 
bankrupt  friar  becomes  demented.  (Digression  on  melan- 
choly.) 

Fos.  246-249.  —  The  author  speaks  of  envy  and  malice  which 
attack  one's  good  name,  even  that  of  the  king.  They  are 
nourished  by  peace.  The  poet  tells  of  a  j'^outh  convicted  for 
the  lust  of  another.  He  himself  has  been  slandered.  (The 
Roman  CathoHc  Church  is  attacked.) 

BOOK  XII 

Fos.   249    verso-252.  —  The    author,    commencing    with    Adam, 

gives  a  list  of  British  kings. 
Fos.  252-256.  —  He  laments  the  death  of  Prince  Henry  and  lauds 

James.     (Attack  on  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.) 
Fos.  254-255  verso.  —  He  speaks  of  the  marriage  of  the  Princess 

Ehza  and  the  attending  festivities.     He  praises  Ehza  and  her 

consort.     He  prays  for  the  overthrow  of  Spain,  Austria,  and 

the  Papacy. 


XXXVl     OUTLINE    OF    THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Fos.  256-267.  —  The  author  tells  of  some  of  those  who  attended 
the  wedding:  a  Captain  Swan  who  disliked  "Pigge"  (digres- 
sion on  fashions  and  tastes);  a  Monsieur  Roe  (fol.  257  verso) 
who  sacrificed  his  timber  to  procure  fine  clothes;  a  fine  ladj'^ 
who  ruined  her  husband  for  buckles  for  her  shoes  (fol.  257, 
verso);  a  gull  in  fine  clothes  (fol.  258);  and  a  pretended  lady 
of  fashion  in  a  coach.  (Digression  on  the  golden  mean,  fol. 
258  verso.)  The  author  next  tells  of  a  miserly  usurer  who 
from  the  one  gown  of  his  dead  mfe  wishes  his  tailor  to  make 
him  many  things  (fol.  259  verso),  and  of  a  silk  merchant  who 
seeks  to  collect  a  debt  from  a  tailor  (fol.  260  ff.)  whose  wife 
betrayed  him  in  the  tailor's  Hell.'  (Digressions  on  tailors, 
duns,  fashions,  etc.)  The  author  then  relates  how  Sir  Had- 
land's  ^  son,  a  prodigal,  seeks  a  livelihood.  (Digressions  on 
heraldry,  flattery,  the  caprice  of  masters,  and  the  nouveaux 
riches.) 

Fos.  267-268.  —  The  author  tells  what  vices  he  has  attacked  in 
his  work. 

'  The  space  beneath  the  tailor's  work  bench. 
2  Cf.  Vol.  II,  Book  IV. 


IL^f 


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The  First  Titi.i.   I'ai.i. 
Photographs  taken  from  a  rotagraph  copy  of  the  manuscript. 


THE    XEWE    METAMORPHOSIS 


CHAPTER  I 
THE  MANUSCRIPT 

The  manuscript  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  which  has 
been  in  the  possession  of  the  British  Museum  since  1844/ 
has  attracted  only  cursory  attention,^  although  it  has  been 
mentioned  and  quoted  several  times  since  the  early  part  of 
the  nineteenth  century  by  men  interested  in  the  Elizabethan 
period  of  English  literature.^  The  great  length  of  the  manu- 
script, together  with  the  fact  that  it  was  written  during  the 
years  of  the  culmination  of  Shakspere's  work  and  contains 
many  allusions  to  contemporary  manners  and  history, 
makes  this  apparent  neglect  surprising.  It  is  worthy  of 
consideration  and  a  somewhat  detailed  description. 

In  addition,  the  identity  of  J.  M.  gent,  offers  an  interesting 
problem.  In  spite  of  several  conjectures,  no  serious  effort 
has  been  made  to  determine  this  question,  and,  as  a  result, 
the  authorship  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  which  Haslewood 
nearly  a  century  ago  dogmatically  assigned  to  John  Marston, 
is  still  in  doubt."* 

In  this  chapter  I  shall  discuss  briefly  both  the  type  of 
work  found  in   The  Newe  Metamorphosis  and  the  plan  of 

'  In  Vol.  I,  p.  1,  on  the  flyleaf  is  written  "purchased  of  Payne  & 
Foss,  1844  (3  vols.)." 

*  Miss  Lucy  Toulmin-Smith  in  the  Shakspere  AUusion-Book,  Vol.  II, 
pp.  480-488,  has  given  a  very  slight  outline  of  the  MS. 

'  Cf.  Chap.  II. 

*  Cf.  Chap.  II. 

1 


2  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

the  poem;    in   the  ensuing  chapters   I   shall   consider  the 
problem  of  the  identity  of  J.  M. 

The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  to  call  the  poem  by  its  first 
title,  is  contained  in  three  volumes  quarto,  in  the  contem- 
porary vellum  binding,  in  the  Additional  Manuscripts  of 
the  British  Museum  14,824,  14,825,  and  14,826,  respectively. 
The  text,  and  indeed  the  whole  manuscript,  is  in  a  remark- 
ably good  state  of  preservation.  Where  there  is  difficulty 
in  deciphering  a  word  it  comes  from  the  formation  of  the 
letters,  corrections,  blotted  words,  or  lack  of  revision,  and 
not  because  of  fading  ink  or  mutilated  pages.  The  first 
volume  has  approximately  eighty-eight  leaves,  the  second, 
one  hundred  and  thirty-six,  and  the  third,  two  hundred  and 
sixty-eight.^  The  author  has  numbered  the  manuscript 
by  the  page  in  the  upper  left-hand  corner;  the  Museum 
authorities  have  numbered  the  poem  in  pencil  by  leaf, 
recto  and  verso.  Neither  method  in  this  case  is  satisfactory. 
The  author,  because  of  frequent  additions,  has  added  over 
a  hundred  pages  which  he  has  inserted ;  the  British  Museum 
authorities,  numbering  by  leaf,  at  times  have  not  read  the 
manuscript  with  necessary  care  and,  in  consequence,  these 
insertions  cause  confusion.  The  author  himself,  almost 
invariably  by  a  word  in  the  generous  margin,  by  a  dotted 
fine,  or  even  by  a  hand  drawn  in  ink,^  has  made  the  sequence 
of  the  poem  clear. 

The  poem  is  written  in  a  close,  clear  hand  with  remarkably 
few  corrections  considering  its  great  length.  As  a  rule 
there  is  an  ample  margin,  and  frequently  in  this  there  are 

1  There  are  frequently  pages  inserted.  These  insertions  may  be 
one  page  or  even  extend  to  many.  In  Book  II  there  are  twenty-seven 
pages  numbered  281  and  sixteen  numbered  361.  The  total  number 
of  pages  is  nine  hundred  and  eighty-four.  There  are,  as  a  rule,  thirty 
to  forty  lines  on  each  page. 

2  Cf.  Vol.  II,  fol.  212. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  3 

many  additional  lines.  It  is  of  interest  to  note  that  the 
author  has  two  distinct  hands.  The  Italian  hand  he  uses 
for  personal  names,  for  titles,  for  words  and  verses  to  which 
he  wishes  to  lend  importance,  and  for  the  homely  proverbs 
for  which  he  shows  a  market  penchant;  the  other  hand, 
in  which  we  find  the  great  bulk  of  the  manuscript,  is  more 
difficult  to  decipher.  It  resembles  in  the  formation  of  the 
letters  manuscripts  of  the  last  decade  of  the  sixteenth 
century.^  The  poem  has  two  title-pages,  separated  by  the 
arguments  for  the  first  six  books.^  There  are  two  volumes,^ 
each  containing  twelve  books.  One  can  see  from  the  title- 
pages  that  the  author's  original  plan  was  a  poem  of  twelve 
books  only.  Undoubtedly  pleasure  in  the  work  and  an 
unrestrained  loquaciousness,  characteristic  of  many  of  his 
contemporaries,  led  him  to  continue  his  Ihad  of  legends  to 
its  present  rambling  length.  "Tomus  Primus,"  which  we 
also  find  crossed  out  on  both  title-pages,  evidently  should 
have  remained. 

The  first  title-page  tells  us  that  the  poem  was  written 
by  J.  M.  gent.  1600.  The  second  title-page  also  repeats 
this  date.  A  httle  later,*  written  below  the  "Epistle  dedi- 
catorie"  to  Momus  and  Cupid  and  having  no  connection 
with  the  poem  itself,  the  author  writes: 

My  name  is  Frenche,  to  tell  yo^  in  a  worde 

Yet  came  not  in  w^^^  Conqueringe  Williams  s worde. ^ 

Indeed,  in  many  parts  of  his  work  J.  M.  becomes  auto- 
biographical.    He    speaks    of   his    home;^    of   the   woman 

*  There  are  numerous  notes  in  pencil  in  the  margin  of  the  manu- 
script made  by  Francis  Godolphin  Waldron.     Cf.  Chap.  II. 

2  The  second  title-page  is  on  folio  3  recto. 

»  Vol.  I,  Add.  MSS.  14,824  and  14,825;   Vol.  II,  14,826. 

*  Fol.  4  verso. 

*  The  question  of  authorship  is  discussed  in  Chaps.  Ill,  IV,  and  V. 
«  Vol.  II,  Book  VII,  fol.  115. 


4  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

whom  he  loves/  whose  aid  he  craves  in  this  labor,  and 
who  has  inspired  him;  of  his  travels  in  Ireland/  Flanders/ 
and  Spain/  of  his  admiration  for  several  of  his  contem- 
poraries; ^  and  in  a  most  intimate  vein  how  he  challenged 
a  certain  gull,  a  "Concealers  son,"  to  a  duel,  and  the  cow- 
ardly behavior  of  his  antagonist.  This  last  instance  is 
such  an  excellent  example  of  his  digressive  method  that  it 
deserves  to  be  quoted. 

The  poet  has  just  been  telling  a  story  of  a  craven  coun- 
cilor's son  who  hanged  himself— "a  coward  ende"  — and 
was  turned  into  the  shape  of  the  timid  squirrel.^  Con- 
tinuing, he  writes;^ 

Whether  't's  a  gifte  peculiar  yea  or  noe 

unto  Concealers  sonnes,  I  doe  not  knowe 

to  be  ranks  Cowards,  yet  a  great  Clarks  sonne 

that  did  not  far  from  me  once  make  his  wonne  * 

having  much  wrong'd  me  in  my  reputation 

and  usd  me  in  a  base  &  scurvy  fashion 

I  cal'd  him  to  account  &  did  him  blame 

for  that  he  had  traduced  my  good  name 

I  told  him  of  it,  in  his  raffe  &  pride 

my  gaudy  Gull,  he  stifly  it  deny'de 

I  told  him  I  would  w*^  my  sword  maintaine 

the  truth  of  what  I  charg'd  him  w**"  againe 

I  threwe  him  downe  my  Glove  &  bad  him  take  it 

that  he  had  wrong'd  me,  good  on  him  I'de  make  —  it 

^  Vol.  I,  Prologue,  fol.  6,  and  in  many  other  places. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  21  verso  ff. 
3  Vol.  II,  fos.  84  verso  ff. 

*  Vol.  II,  fos.  119  ff. 

5  An  example  of  this  is  Vol.  II,  fol.  1. 
8  Vol.  II,  fol.  59. 
7  Vol.  II,  fos.  59  ff. 

*  Home.  Cf.  Spenser,  The  Faerie  Queene,  Book  I,  Canto  VI,  Stanza 
xxxix. 


The  Second  Title  Page 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  5 

I  nam'd  the  Tyme  &  Plaic  for  he  was  slacke 
and  I  his  Glove  from  him  received  backs 
that  he  would  answer  me.     This  'Chequer-man 
home  to  his  Mumma  presently  then  ran 
&  crying  told  her  he  must  fight  the  feild 
where  he  much  feared  that  he  should  be  kild. 
He  was  indeed  a  base,  white-livired-slave 
a  foole,  an  Asse  &  a  caluminous  Knave. 

The  place  appointed  it  was  Callis  sande 

his  sworde  &  horse  he  sold  both  out  of  hande. 

And  the  indignant  poet  heaps  his  scorn  upon  his  cowardly 
traducer.  He  then  continues  the  story  of  love  which  he 
had  interrupted. 

Both  the  title-pages  give  the  date  of  the  poem  as  1600. 
It  was  undoubtedly  commenced  in  that  year  and  returned 
to  at  intervals  until  about  1615.  Because  the  last  book 
of  the  second  volume  mentioned  the  death  of  the  Stuart 
heir,  the  lamented  Prince  Henry,  and  the  marriage  of  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,^  the  poem  has  been  assigned  to  the 
years  1 600-1 61 3. ^  But  even  in  the  first  volume  we  have 
mention  of  the  death  of  Henry .^    J.  M.  writes: 

But  H.  untimely  in  his  prime  of  yeares 
must  thence  dep(ar)te,  &  passe  through  funerall  fyres 
iust  at  that  tyme  when  greatest  ioye's  intended 
at  bright  Es  nuptials,  w'^'*  all  mirth  portended 
then  C.  that  Noble  Prince  shall  nexte  succeede 
for  soe  th'  imortal  powers  have  decreede 
that  most  illustrious  Prince,  Carl-Maximus 
the  ioye,  the  life,  the  very  soule  of  us. 

1  Henry  died  Nov.  6,  1612;  Elizabeth  married  the  Elector  Palatine, 
Feb.  14,  1612-13. 

2  Miss  Lucy  Toulmin-Smith,  Shakspere  Allusion-Book,  Vol.  II, 
p.  483. 

'  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  116. 


6  THE    NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

In  this  same  book  we  are  told  of  the  defeat  of  the  Spanish 
Armada  and  the  tidings  of  the  death  of  Ehzabeth  —  a 
variety  of  subjects,  truly,  and  separated  by  many  years. 

Several  instances  of  this  kind  lead  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  author  made  many  insertions  in  the  course  of  compo- 
sition. The  frequent  references  to  authors,  and  even  to  the 
pages  referred  to,  further  strengthen  this  assertion  and  also 
help  in  dating  more  accurately  The  Newe  Metamor pilosis. 
Ralegh's  History  of  the  World,'^  Purchas  his  Pilgrimage,'^  and 
Milles'  popular  The  Treasurie  of  Auncient  and  Moderne 
Times,^  all  pubHshed  in  1613  or  later,  are  mentioned,  the 
last  most  frequently  and  in  both  volumes.  Consequently, 
it  is  safe  to  assert  that  the  poem  was  not  completed  before 
1614  or  1615.  Even  the  different  parts  of  the  manuscript 
can  be  dated  with  some  accuracy,  for  there  are  many  scat- 
tered allusions  to  contemporary  history,  to  the  early  Roman- 
ist plots  against  James,^  to  the  assassination  of  Henry  of 
France,  to  the  planting  of  colonies  in  Virginia  and  in  Ireland,^ 
to  give  only  a  few  examples. 

The  reasons  which  deterred  the  author  from  publishing 
a  work  upon  which  he  had  spent  so  many  years  cannot  be 
definitely  determined.  J.  M.,  as  the  manuscript  tells  us, 
served  in  various  campaigns,  and  he  may  have  written 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis  to  furnish  diversion  to  his  com- 
panions or  to  relieve  the  weariness  of  camp  life.  But  the 
Prologue,  the  many  insertions,  and  the  dedication,  all 
seem  to  show  conclusively  that  the  manuscript  was  intended 
for  publication  and  to  gain  the  applause  of  his  contem- 

1  Entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register  15  April,  1611,  but  not  pub- 
lished until  1614;    Camden  says  the  29th  of  March. 

2  First  folio,  1613. 

3  London,  161S-19.  2  vols.  The  Bodleian  Catalogue  gives  the  second 
volume  as  1616. 

*  Vol.  II,  fos.  198  verso  ff. 

6  Vol.  II,  fos.  134  £f.    The  plantation  of  Ulster  took  place  1607. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  7 

poraries.^  He  planned  at  first  —  as  the  title-pages  make 
clear  —  to  write  only  twelve  books,  and  he  undoubtedly 
would  defer  his  search  of  an  audience  until  he  had  finished 
his  first  volume,  the  last  book  of  which  has  a  reference  to 
the  death  of  Henry,  the  eldest  son  of  the  king.^  In  the 
meantime,  both  his  material  and  his  plan  demanded  a  second 
volume.  When  he  wrote  the  "Finis"  in  1615  or  even  later, 
the  temper  of  his  contemporaries  had  undergone  a  change, 
and  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  as  written  at  first,^  would 
necessarily  have  to  be  revised  in  many  ways  before  its 
author  could  win  the  favor  of  the  Stuart  court.  Additional 
reasons  why  J.  M.,  even  at  the  conclusion  of  the  first  volume, 
would  hesitate  to  publish  his  work  can  be  advanced  after 
the  identity  of  the  author  has  been  determined.'* 

The  arguments  for  the  first  six  books  separate  the  two 
title-pages.  These  are  repeated  before  the  respective 
books  with  minor  changes  in  spelling  and  wording.  The 
same  plan  is  followed  for  the  six  books  of  Part  11.^  In 
Volume  II,  however,  the  arguments  are  found  not  together 
at  the  beginning,  but  only  separately,  each  before  its  re- 
spective book. 

At  the  end  of  Volume  II  the  author,  in  conclusion,  before 
he  naively  writes, 

My  leave  I  here  of  Poetrie  doe  take 
for  I  have  writte  untill  my  hande  doe  ake 
Finis, 

again  enumerates  the  sins  of  his  contemporaries  and  of  the 
world  at  large  which,  by  means  of  tales  or  by  direct  attack, 
he  has  arraigned  in  The  New  Metamorphosis.  As  these 
concluding  lines  and  the  twenty-four  arguments  give  an 

1  Cf.  Prologue,  Chap.  VI.  «  Henry  died  in  1612. 

3  Prologue.  *  Cf.  Chap.  V,  pp.  155  ff. 

*  The  argument  for  Part  II,  Book  V,  is  not  given  before  the  book. 
In  the  margin  the  argument  of  Book  IV,  crossed  out,  is  repeated. 


8  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

idea  of  the  amazing  variety  and  types  of  subjects  which 
J.  M.  treats,  I  shall  quote  them  in  toto; 

Vol.  I 

Lib:   1.    Argument, 
The  Gods  dispos'd  to  mirthe  did  for  their  Plotte 
make  choise  of  Fayery :  Quarels  for  the  Lotte 
ofGoverment:  Treason 'gainst  Chastety: 
The  Cloysters  exercise  cald  venerie 
Venus  ta'ne  washinge  by  the  Fisherman : 
Joves  wronges  he  there  expostulateth  than. 

Lib.  2.     Argumente. 
Rewarde  of  Luste :  scorninge  th'  Love-Deitie : 
Foule  sinnes  are  punished  in  Hyberie: 
Fooles  caught  w*^  gay  lookes,  &  their  fond  rewarde : 
Fault-finders-faults,  in  punishment  have  shar'd : 
Loves  most  strange  Labour :  Hasty  love  repented 
rash  vowes  perform'd,  their  chastisement  augmented. 

Lib.  3.    Argument. 
The  quarrell  'bout  the  Lotte  devission  makes 
amongst  the  Gods,  the  rest  wi**^  Mars  pertakes: 
Lusts  black  conception,  birth  &  progenie : 
Incest  is  punisht,  &  that  worthely : 
Joves  wrathfuU  threats  upon  ApoUos  seede 
Scylumen,  Chryses  't  did  to  them  succede 

Lib.  4.     Argument. 
Love  sends  them  packinge  to  their  severall  Loves: 
The  Curtizans  welcome  Liber  Pater  proves : 
The  vine  founde  out,  with  's  virtues  manifold : 
Antaephors  acts  so  desperate  &  bold  ^ 
Men  u'sd  to  Theft  will  kepe  their  hands  in  ure 
Hels  scoffinge  at  him,  he's  forst  to  endure 

^  This  argument  as  prefaced  to  Book  IV  reads,  "acts  most  desper- 
ately bold." 


i^  4.' 


V^^'    •    •     • 


/)M«    /lr»l£ 


'■' »  '  "         -'        /J /  - 


Folio  from  "The  Ne'w'e  Metamorphosis" 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  9 

Lib.  5.     Argument.^ 
The  Pyren-Ladies,  challenge  th'  Muses  nyne 
to  singe  w***  them,  hkewise  a  triple  trine: 
Neptunes  love  to  Tamisis  greate  is  showne 
he  takes  her  to  him,  keepes  her  as  his  owne, 
description  of  her:  Th'  Banquet  of  th'  Deities 
made  by  Pryapus :  Capernus  lecheries : 

Lib.  6.    Argument 
Inconstancie  describ'd :  Theft  punished : 
Whoredom  &  Murder,  both  on  one  stringe  lead: 
Inventions  many :^  Sodomy:  Adulterie: 
Pride:  Superstition:  Black  Necromancie: 
The  Judge  beinge  bribed  w*^  a  golden  fee 
gave  sentence  wronge,  for  w*^*^  he  'scapt  not  free. 

Lib:  7.    Argument.' 
Withred-old-age,  doates  on  Childe-infancie 
begettes  two  sonnes.  Avarice  &  Jealousie 
all  three  described  vively  to  the  Ufe : 
Lust  kils  the  Husband  to  enjoj^e  the  wife: 
One  trustinge  Fortune-tellers  is  run  wilde: 
By  Mercurie  he  is  of  's  wife  beguilde: 

Lib.  8.    Argument. 
Womans  presumptuous  wish,  her  pride  abated : 
Fish-stealers :  Love-Nymphs:  Empiric  translated: 
Rare  Glasse :  strange  thinges :  Secrets  discoverers, 
punisht  w*^  busie  bodie  Reformers : 
Gullions  greate  draughte:  Xadleus  iugUng  tricks: 
Murderers  in  prisson,  love  Dice,  Drinke,  IVIeri-trix. 

Lib.  9.    Argument. 
Wars  't\vixt  Arabian  &  the  Egj^ptian  Kinge 
both  lost  their  lives,  their  maimer  buryinge : 

^  This  argument  is  not  found  before  Book  V. 

*  "Many  inventions,"  in  the  argument  prefixed  to  Liber  6. 

8  This  commences  Part  II  of  Vol.  I  or  Add.  MS.  14,825. 


10  THE    NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Arabians  Queene,  rare  paterne  of  True-love: 
Of  Womens  praise,  th'  exceede  Men  it  doth  prove: 
Adultery,  Murder :  Women  monstrous  Blabs 
No  secrets  t'  women,  'specially  if  Drabbes. 

Lib.  10.    Argument. 
The  Popes  greate  power:  their  Legends,  Histories: 
they  keepe  the  Lawe,  their  severall  Qualities: 
Rome  is  describ'd,  part  of  th'  Popes  revenewes : 
Fantastick  fashions :  Blj^nd-Assinus  ensewes : 
The  Ram-pie-f easte :  Apollo,  Mercuric 
two  Faiery  Nymphes,  chose  for  societie. 

Lib.  11.   Argum*: 
Of  Friendship:  Travaihnge  for  uncertainties: 
Executors,  their  lewde  deceipte  &  guise 
debasinge  th'  Heire,  &  making  her  turne  Whoare: 
Saturnia's  Jealousie  deceiv'd  evermore: 
Her  curious  searche:  Corycus  Cave  describ'd 
her  findinge  Jove,  contendinge,  reconcil'd. 

.  Lib.  12.  Argum*: 
,  Cupid  &  Venus  parlie,  she  him  chides: 
The  Gods  fall  foule,  the  Parliament  decydes 
the  Controversie :  Cupid  is  banished : 
Mischeif es  that  f oUowe :  Merlyn  prophesied 
Gunnes  are  invented :  Th'  Fleete  Invincible 
saild  back  to  Spaine,  almost  Invisible. 

Volume  II.    Add.  MS.  14,826  ^ 
Tomus  secundus 
Liber  primus 
Argumente. 
England  describ'd,  th'  happinesse  in  its  Kinge: 
Love  seekes  a  Service,  sure  a  wondrous  thinge: 
The  crueltie  of  th'  Tanner  punished : 
Cupids  ill  happe  is  nexte  desciphered : 

^  The  arguments  in  this  volume  are  given  only  before  the  respec- 
tive books. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  11 

Love  conquers  Conquerers:  Men  of  best  desertes 
are  wrong'd  by  Women  that  have  double  hartes. 

Lib.  2 
Argument.^ 
Arcadias  life  &  pastorall  hapinesse 
reproofe  of  Moderne  tymes  so  great  excesse : 
The  dismall  danger  of  immodest  wives 
who  chaste  ones  have,  their  treble  happie  lives: 
The  Merchants  curse,  the  Pyrats  wickednesse 
RebeUions  mischeife  doth  the  next  expresse. 

Lib.  3.    Argument.^ 
Cupid  doth  quenche  the  heate  of  Paphian  f yres : 
Mercury,  th'  Gods  Spokes-man,  humbly  Jove  desyres 
to  recall  Cupid:  who  with  's  Love  returnes: 
The  pure  chaste  life  of  all  your  Cloystred  Nunnes: 
The  Pry  or  seekes  t'  prevent  the  Prophesy: 
Whiles  th'  Meale-mouth'd-Miller,  was  at 's  venerie. 

Lib.  4.    Argument.' 
A  coy  lasse  woonne,  after  longe  weary  sute: 
of  Lustf uU  persons  the  prodigious  f ruite : 
Presumption  punisht  by  that  very  hande : 
that  humble  Chemmish  caus'd  aloft  to  stande: 
Diana's  grove  feld  downe  despightfuUy 
the  wronge  revenged  by  that  Deitie. 

Lib.  5.     Argument.* 
Avarice  &  Theft  are  duely  punished : 
Loose  huswives  bragges  of  lewdnes  'sciphered : 
Womens  affections  to  their  husbands  greate: 
Fonde  wishers:  Such  as  betters  ill  entreate: 
Nuptials  of  Venus  &  fals  play  set  forth: 
Th'  Tale-teller  &  her  sister  punisht  both. 

*  Fol.  21.    This  is  wTitten  in  the  margin;   the  argument  for  Book  I 
has  been  repeated  and  crossed  out.  *  Vol.  II,  fol.  37  verso. 

«  Vol.  II,  fol.  57.  *  Vol.  II,  fol.  72. 


12  THE    NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Liber  6.    Argument.^ 
Strange  Fountaines  vertues  &  their  qualities: 
Illiterate  Priests,  their  foolish  ceremonies: 
Dumbe  Dogges  once  barkinge,  &  their  pronunciation: 
Th'  abuse  of  learnd  Physicians  vocation: 
Children  abusing  Parents  reprehended : 
Wives  runninge  from  their  Husbands  are  condemned : 

Lib.  7.    Argument.^ 
Th'  Incontinent  doth  the  Suspected  murther: 
Lust,  Murther,  Gaminge,  doe  their  owne  deaths  further: 
Cales  voyage  is  describ'd,  their  quick  returne, 
EngUsh  humanitie,  they  the  Countrie  burne : 
A  Lady  mourninge  for  th'  losse  of  her  Soime 
slayne  in  the  Conflict  when  to  th'  Gates  they  run. 

Liber    8.^ 

Argument. 
Returninge  home  from  Cales  to  passe  the  tyme, 
ech  one  must  tell  his  tale  in  Prose  or  Ryme: 
About  Plantations  first  they  doe  begin: 
Of  th'  Lottery:  next  of  The  Wittols  sin: 
A  Ladies  chastety  vively  set  out: 
A  Lasses  coynes  punished  sans  doubt:  &cy 

Liber  9. 
Argumente.* 
Coactive  love  unsounde :  of  MessaUne 
th'  incontinence  &  boldnes  most  supine: 
Craf te  overcatcht  &  taken  Unaware : 
Th'  Cockneis  wantonnes,  many  in  't  have  share: 
Ambitious  women:  greate  presumption: 
Lawyers  Atheisticall  dissimulation  &c.  &c.  &c. 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  94  verso. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  110  verso. 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  128. 
*  Vol.  II,  fol.  151. 


Folio  prom  "The  Newe  Metamorphosis" 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  13 

Liber  10.    Argumente.* 
Murder  &  Treason,  Romes  Religion: 
The  Plotte  describ'd  of  th'  Powder  Treason: 
The  Traytors  punishment,  their  goeinge  to  Hell : 
Their  change  of  office  w*^^  became  them  well: 
The  Jesuits  vertue  lively  is  set  forth. 
Tyburne  the  Antidote :  'gainst  Tyburs  wroth. 

Liber  IL    Argument.^ 
Of  drunkards  here  a  storje  large  you  see 
and  eke  of  those  that  their  Abettors  be. 
Of  Gluttony  the  next,  excesse  in  Feastinge 
w''^  many  after  makes  exceede  in  Fastinge. 
Contentious  Knaves,  next  here  must  have  a  roome 
Calumnious-viperous-tongues  from  Hell  doe  come. 

Liber  12.    Metamorphosis. 
Argumente.^ 
The  Catalogue  of  ancient  Brittish  Kinges : 
Prince  Henries  deathe :  Elizas  Nuptiallinges : 
Some  strange  Mutations  at  the  Princely  Revels: 
Of  Avarice  the  most  unmanly  evils : 
False-play  under  th'  bourde  nexte  requires  a  roome : 
And  Pride  w'^'^  heere  doth  for  the  last  Dish  come. 

*The  many  vices  of  us  derely  loved 
in  this  discourse  I  freely  have  reproved 
nor  for  their  greatnes  doe  I  spare  their  vice 
for  that's  exemplar,  &  doth  more  entice 
I  have  not  feared,  their  greate  Masters  frowne 
though  he  goe  clothed  in  his  scarlet  gowne 
though  thousand  p[er3sons  too  he  can  comand 
better  then  he,  I  have  not  held  my  hande 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  194  verso. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  234. 

8  Vol.  II,  fol.  249  verso. 

*  Vol.  II,  fos.  267  ff.    This  is  the  conclusion  of  the  poem. 


14  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

but  have  as  boldly  laid  them  to  thy  viewe 
as  they  doe  them  comit,  fearles,  yet  true 
as  Wantonnes,  pride,  bribery,  buggerie 
falsehood,  rape,  hastie-love,  sodomie 
bauderie,  Curtezans-guise,  superstition 
Witchcraft,  rash-promise-making,  bold-presumption 
incest,  murder,  insolence,  inconstancie 
rash-vowes,  trust-betraying,  necromancie 
theft,  avarice,  usurie  &  druiikennes 
incontinence,  face-painting,  inquisitivenes 
ieolousie,  blasphemie,  crueltie,  Piracie 
moderne-excesse.  Rebellion,  periurie 
cowardice,  voaginge,  fruites  of  lust,  coynes 
self-murder,  fonde-wishers,  &  idlenes 
ingratefuU-children,  contempt  of  superiors 
cosonage,  quareUinge,  abuse  of  strangers 
lyinge,  blab-tongue-women,  inprecatinge 
polutinge-temples,  coactive-love,  gaminge 
ambition,  Ladies-courtesie-abused 
Executors  deceipte  not  to  be  excused 
Dissimulation,  Womens-impudence 
Romes  chastety,  must  be  in  th'  future  tense 
backbitinge,  drunkards  &  their  abettors 
gluttonie,  contentious-persons,  debtors 
craft-over-reacht,  puttinge-children  to  Nurse 
swearinge,  Wittolrie,  the  Merchants  curse 
phisick-abus'd,  Lawj'^ers  dissimulation 
excess-in-apparell,  Heraldrie-abus'd,  Treason 
Papists-religion,  Jesuits-villanie 
equivocation,  th'  grounde  of  trecherie 
Men  valued  by  their  habits  in  Kings-Courts 
ilhtterate-Priests  &  Guls,  Lots  not  for  sports 
the  chastetie  of  all  the  cloystaed  crue 
superstitious  of  prophesies  receive  their  due 
betters  envyinge,  scorninge  inferiors 
mockers  of  prophesy,  women-maligners 
for  many  Popes  dispense  w*^  foulest  sinnes 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  15 

Pope  holynes  &  chastetye,  not  worth  two  pinnes 
Women-wearing-breeches,  men-monstrous-masters 
fantastick-fashions,  Empericks,  rash-censurers, 
Vaine  glorious-asses,  irreconcihable-hatred 
perfidiousnes,  old  dotards,  friendship-abused 
Warring  t'  enlarge  Kingdomes,  w***  many  more 
I  reckon  not  all  by  well  neere  a  score 
a  hundred  vices  I  doe  thinke  at  least 
I've  here  displaid  &  against  them  protest 
learne  not  to  doe  them,  but  them  viewe  w*^  hate 
lest  loving  them,  you  them  repent  too  late 
if  you  the  vice  comit,  you  may  expecte 
the  punishment :  let  not  the  one  inf ecte 
unles  y'  are  willing,  th'  other  should  be  inflicted 
w*^  severall  iudgments,  note  howe  th'  are  afflicted 
by  these  mens  falles,  I  all  men  warne.  Beware 
for  such  as  take  noe  warning,  I  not  care 


Nowe  for  conclusion  therfore  of  the  whole 
to  all  alike,  I've  freely  dealt  my  dole 
&  spar'd  noe  vice  that  came  w^'^in  my  waie 
so  here  I  meane  my  weary  course  to  stale 
some  more  accurate  will  shortly  tread  the  pathe 
my  rougher  Muse  already  beaten  hath 
my  leave  I  here  of  Poetrie  doe  take 
for  I  have  writte  untill  my  hande  doth  ake 

Finis. 

After  reading  these  arguments  and  concluding  lines  of 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  one  can  judge  the  amazing  variety 
of  subjects  with  which  the  author  deals.  With  the  extrava- 
gance of  his  period  J.  M.  tells  us  with  some  arrogance  and 
self-praise,  "I  have  spar'd  no  one."  Indeed,  he  might  have 
written  with  truth  that  on  some  vices,  especially  those  with 
which  he  charged  the  Church  of   Rome,^  he  had  expended 

^  The  Church  of  Rome  is  attacked  in  every  book,  but  especially  in 
Book  X  of  both  Vol.  I  and  Vol.  II. 


16  THE    NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

sufficient  vigor  and  virulent  personalities  to  rival  even  the 
sledge-hammer  strokes  of  Skelton.  And  on  the  other  hand 
he  metes  out  punishment  for  many  of  the  sins  of  the  flesh 
with  apparent  lack  of  sincerity;  the  author  often  chuckles 
audibly  when  telling  with  Rabelaisian  gusto  some  particu- 
larly salacious  tale,  and  the  metamorphosis  given  as  a  rec- 
ompense for  the  wickedness  of  his  characters  seems  a  most 
perfunctory  afterthought.^ 

The  second  title-page  ^  is  followed  by  a  dialogue  between 
the  love  god  Cupid  and  the  railing  deity  Momus,  each  one 
contending  for  the  privilege  of  being  patron  of  the  follow- 
ing stories.  Cupid  hurls  at  Momus  the  abuse  not  only 
typical  of  much  of  the  early  popular  satire,  but  also  so 
abundantly  found  in  the  contemporary  classical  imitations 
of  Persius  and  Juvenal.^     Cupid  cries : 

"Thou  foule  mouthed,  filthy,  squite-eyed-cankered  churle  * 

that  against  all  doth  envious  speeches  hurle 

dost  thou  not  knowe  that  I  greate  love  can  make 

my  pleasant  easy  yoake  upon  him  take? 

Howe  then  dar'st  thou  deny  me  to  be  Kinge 

who  stirre  affection  in  ech  livinge  thinge? 

But  what  dost  here?  why  medlest  w*^  these  lynes? 

say  what  is  here  whereat  thy  heart  repynes?" 

[Momus:]  "I  come  to  have  them  to  me  dedicate." 

This  contention! of  the  two  gods  is  finally  arranged  by  Mo- 
mus' decision  that  both  should  be  the  patrons  of  the  work. 
He  says : 

1  There  are  many  examples  of  tales  of  this  description;  excellent 
examples  are  the  stories  told  around  the  bed  of  the  woman  in  confine- 
ment, Vol.  II,  Book  V. 

2  Vol.  I,  fol.  3. 

3  Examples  are  Hall's  Virgidemiarum  (1597),  Biting  Satires  (1598); 
Marston  The  Metamorphosis  of  Pygmalions  Image ;  and  certain  Satyres 
(1598),  The  Scourge  of  Villanie  (1598);    Microcynican  by  T.  M.,  etc. 

4  Vol.  I,  fol.  4. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  17 

W[i]thin  this  booke  is  matter  of  delighte  ^ 
that  patronize  thou:   that  w''^  is  of  spighte 
my  self  will  have,  I  will  his  Patron  bee 
and  let  the  envious  freely  carpe  at  mee 
take  thou  the  one  &  I  will  have  the  other." 

Their  dialogue  is  followed  by  a  few  lines  by  "The  Authore 
to  his  Booke,"  showing  that  his  intention  had  been  to 
dedicate  his  work  to  the  great  Elizabeth,  — 

That  which  was  unto  a  Queene  intended 
is  nowe  unto,  two  powerfull  gods  comended  ^ 

and  in  turn  by  the  "Epistle  dedieatorie"  in  just  a  single 
couplet, 

To  Momus  that  same  ever  carpinge  mate 

And  unto  Cupid,  I  this  dedicate. 

The  author  himself,  in  his  Prologue,^  next  introduces 
his  book  to  the  reader.  After  some  self-praise  and  with  the 
customary  smug  complacency  of  the  Elizabethan  satirist, 
he  considers  what  shall  be  the  nature  of  the  work  of  which 
two  gods  are  patrons.  "Bloody  warres,"  tales  of  love, 
histories  of  "Countryes  strange,"  "rough  Satyres"  in 
"rough  hairy  skinnes,  and  "buskind  Seneca,"  each  in  turn 
attracts  him.  Eventually  he  decides  to  combine  these 
motifs;  to  touch  them  "one  &  all."  Indeed,  he  confides 
to  his  public  that  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  because  of  its 
variety  of  themes,  is  like, 

...  a  Flemish  Gallemanfrey  made 
of  flesh,  herbes,  onyons,  both  of  roote  and  blade. 

With  Ovid  as  his  only  "patterne"  in  a  work  of  this  nature, 
J.  M.  determines  to  arraign  "these  impious  tymes"  in 
"yrefull  Satyres,  clad  in  rugged  rymes."  He  asserts  that 
he  will  not  affect  "curiositie  of  words,"  because  his  subject 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  4  verso.  ^  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  4  verso. 

3  Cf.  Chap.  VI. 


18  THE    NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

does  not  demand  it;  in  fact,  he  writes  that  he  has  "noe 
Poets  pleasinge  smoth-fyl'd  veyne,"  and  that  he  travels  in 
a  "hobbUng  ryme."  The  Prologue  closes  with  a  prayer 
to  Jove  and  to  the  Muses  for  favor,  and  a  request  to  "Ma- 
tilda fayre"  that  she,  who  "rulest  my  harte,"  may  aid  his 
"wandering  quill"  in  its  attacks  on  the  "secretest  actions 
of  rebyredness."  At  the  close  of  the  Prologue,  in  spite  of 
the  twenty-four  arguments  to  the  respective  books  and  the 
diffuse  conclusion  to  his  work,  the  author  again  gives  with 
some  detail  those  vices  he  especially  condemns  in  this  "world 
infected  with  the  goute." 

This  Prologue  not  only  sheds  additional  light  on  the 
nature  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  but  it  also  brings  to  the 
foreground  two  matters  for  some  consideration.  The 
questions  naturally  arise  both  concerning  the  identity  of 
^'Matilda  fayre,"  whom  the  author  prays  to  "inflame  my 
braine  with  Love  celestiall  fyre,"  and  —  what  is  of  far  more 
significance  —  the  more  technical  subject  of  verse. 

J.  M.  in  his  digressions  throughout  the  body  of  his  work 
refers  many  times  to  this  passion  for  Matilda.^  He  writes 
that  all  poets  know  love,  and,  indeed,  that  he  had  written 
"these  rough-he  wen  lynes"  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
because  he  was  inspired  with  its  flame.^  He  places  Matilda 
prominently  among  those  women  famous  for  their  virtue 
and  courage,  and  envies  the  man  "who  her  enioyes  at  bed 
&  bourd,"  for,  as  he  writes  with  some  charm,  she  is  of  those 
women, 

they  Roses  redolent  w*^^  sences  chere 
men  but  as  pricks  w°^  doe  the  roses  beare 
they  are  the  swete  Prim-roses  of  the  feild 
or  Honey-suckles  w"*^  most  sweetnes  yeild.^ 

1  Examples  are  Vol.  II,  fos.  3  verso,  4,  13  verso,  14,  41,  28,  31  verso; 
Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  49  verso  ff. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  13  verso.  ^  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  49  verso. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  19 

The  reader  can  see  by  the  many  scattered  references  to 
Matilda  that  J.  M.  was  no  cold  and  formal  lover  delicately 
playing  with  the  tender  passion  according  to  traditional 
rules.  She  was  no  illusive  mistress  of  an  Elizabethan 
sonnet  sequence.  Still  in  those  books  of  the  poem  which 
clearly  belong  to  the  later  years  of  composition,  there  is 
no  further  mention  of  his  youthful  fancy.  Whether  the 
poet  had  conquered  his  passion,  or  additional  years  had 
proved  to  him  that  even  "Swete  Matilda"  was  no  longer 
needed  for  an  inspiration  to  so  facile  and  loquacious  a  writer, 
must  remain  in  doubt.  It  is  a  matter  of  interest,  however, 
that  in  his  earlier  work,  in  spite  of  those  diatribes  against 
women  —  an  inheritance  to  the  Elizabethan  from  the 
middle  ages  —  there  is  much  generous  praise  and,  indeed, 
reverence  for  the  good  wife,  the  noble  mother,  and  the  virtuous 
maiden.^ 

In  addition  to  the  allusion  to  Maltilda,  the  author  also 
tells  us  in  the  Prologue  that  he  will  arraign  the  vices  of  the 
times  in  "yrefull  satyres,  clad  in  rugged  rymes."  A  little 
later  he  writes  that  "Satyres  are  clothed  in  rough  hairy 
skinnes"  and  that 

I  have  noe  Poets  pleasinge  smoth  fyld  veyne 
but  a  ragg'd  Satyrists  rougher  hewen  straine. 

It  seems,  therefore,  best  to  discuss  at  this  point  the  versi- 
fication of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  and  the  general  nature 
of  the  work. 

The  poem  is  written  in  heroic  couplet,  fairly  regular  and 
with  comparatively  few  of  the  run-on  lines  so  displeasing 
to  the  eighteenth-century  prosodist.  Donne  had  first  used 
in  England  the  decasyllabic  couplet  in  formal  satire;-   but 

^  For  example  see  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  49  verso,  98,  etc. 

^  Cf.  R.  M.  Alden,  The  Rise  of  Formal  Satire  in  England,  p.  83. 


20  THE    NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

he  did  not  possess  the  metrical  felicity  or  epigrammatic 
skill  of  his  contemporary  Joseph  Hall,  whose  verse,  Warton 
wrote,  "approaches  to  the  modern  standards."^  Indeed, 
Hall  attained  to  an  eminent  degree  the  central  caesura, 
the  balance  of  the  two  halves  of  the  verse,  the  completion  of 
sense  in  the  couplet,  found  in  the  eighteenth-century  sati- 
rists. Spenser  ^  and  Drayton  ^  had  also  used  with  consider- 
able skill,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the 
heroic  couplet  for  narrative  work.  And  so  J.  M.,  with  many 
excellent  contemporary  models,  and  Chaucer's  brilliant  use 
of  the  couplet  also,  possibly,  in  mind,  chose  "the  best  metri- 
cal form  which  intelligence,  as  distinct  from  poetical  feeling, 
can  employ."'* 

It  cannot  be  claimed  that  our  author  is  eminently  happy 
in  his  use  of  verse.  He  often  travels  with  a  "hobbling 
gait,"  and  he  himself  is  most  candid  in  admitting  his  limi- 
tations. Many  times  in  the  work,  when  fired  by  love  of 
country,  of  church,  of  his  rulers,  or  of  virtue,  he  plaintively, 
and  apparently  sincerely,  confesses  his  shortcomings  as  a 
poet.  He  makes  no  claim  that  he  is  favored  by  his  Muse. 
He  also  has  written  hastily  and  revised  seldom. 

The  following  quotations  are  not  the  most  happy  examples 
of  the  poet's  versification,  but  they  show  him  laboring  under 
genuine  emotion: 

Thou  great  all-seeing,  &  almighty-God 

w"^  makest  the  wicked  feele  thine  angry  rod 

thou  great  Creator  of  this  globe-like  world 

w''^  thus  o''  enimies  into  sea  hast  hurld 

thou  God  of  Battles  &  successful!  warre 

w'^*'^  thus  our  foes  didst  from  o""  kingdome  bar 

1  Warton,  History  of  English  Poetry,  ed.  Hazlitt,  Vol.  IV,  p.  367. 

*  Cf.  Spenser,  Mother  Hubberd's  Tale. 
'  Drayton,  Heroicall  Epistles,   1597. 

*  Woodberry,  Makers  of  Literature,  p.  504. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  21 

accept  this  sacrifice  which  I  freely  give 
Most  humble  thanks,  &  \^dll  doe,  while  I  live 
for  this  deliverance  from  o""  enimye 
who  us,  religion,  &  thy  selfe  defie 
Not  unto  us,  oh  Lord,  not  unto  us 
are  praises  due,  thou  art  victorious 
unto  thy  name,  we  attribute  the  praise 
who  for  thj'  chosen  hast  so  many  wayes 
to  work  deliverance :  oh  defend  us  still 
from  Spanish  rage,  who  toyle  to  worke  us  ill 
oh  still  defende  Mee  &  my  Realmes  from  those 
that  both  to  Thee  &  us  are  mortall  foes 
as  all  o''  hope  is  in  thy  saving  name 
so  evermore  defende  us  by  the  same 
Amen,  amen,  greate  Jove  graunt  o''  request 
so  both  in  hfe  &  death  we  shalbe  blest  ^ 

Warre  is  a  T3a-ant  &  a  bloody  one 

it  hath  noe  eares  to  heare  the  widdowes  moane 

it  heares  not  infants,  virgines,  womens  cryes 

War  's  deafe  on 's  eares,  &  blind  on  both  his  eyes 

Warre  seperates  the  Lover  from  his  Love 

and  doth  the  husband  from  his  wife  remove 

it  barren  makes  &  wastes  the  fertilst  soile 

it  keepes  the  Husbandman  from 's  pleasing  toile. 

Warre  doth  expose  to  dangers  infinite 

't  is  noe  boyes  play  in  feild  'mongst  foes  to  fight  ^ 

Peace  is  a  thinge  of  most  admyred  worth 
Peace  breedeth  plenty  &  makes  ech  place  florish 
all  lauded  arts  it  teacheth  &  doth  nourish 
Peace  maketh  learning  florish,  goods  increase 
a  sacred  thinge  is  sweete  according  Peace 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  134  verso  ff.    A  prayer  of  Elizabeth  after  the 
defeat  of  the  Armada. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  127  verso.    An  only  son  has  been  slain  in  the  sacking 
of  Cadiz,  1596. 


22  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

it  fiUeth  men  w*^  joye  &  boyes  w^*"  mirthe 
it  labo""^  to  expell  all-killinge-dearth 
Peace  filles  w*^^  people,  countryes,  cityes,  townes 
it  puts  off  Steele  &  clotheth  men  in  gownes 

Arachne  in  the  Steele  cappe,  workes  apace 
her  endles  web  w*4n  a  narrowe  space. 
Peace,  plants  &  builds,  &  sowes  &  reapes  increase 
marryes,  makes  contracts,  trafiques  ore  the  seas 
makes  purchases  be  bought  &  marts  frequented 
makes  toylesome  husbandman  take  lease  indented 
peace  plants  reUgion,  that  soule-saving-arte 
w"*^  mortals  doth  imortally  converte.  ^ 

Only  once  in  the  course  of  the  work  does  the  author 
change  from  the  heroic  couplet.  A  martial  lover  has  been 
wooing  in  vain,  and  finally,  driven  by  his  passion  to  verse, 
he  addresses  to  his  lady  several  stanzas  of  six  verses  of  the 
type  used  so  melodiously  in  Venus  and  Adonis.  This  hero 
finally  won  his  mistress  after  using  the  aid  of  a  very  mis- 
chievous god  of  love  and  the  disguise  of  a  page  employed 
also  by  Viola,^  Euphrasia,^  and  Eroclea*  in  the  drama  of  the 
period.  His  stanzas  pray  for  the  transforming  of  his  cruel 
mistress  into  compliance.     Following  are  the  last  two: 

Which,  Oh  you  Gods,  that  did  Pigmalion  ayde 

ayde  me  I  you  beseeche  on  bended  knee 

move  but  her  harte,  (the  w'^'^  so  much  hath  straied 

from  my  deere  love)  that  she  my  love  may  see 

&  thou  swete  Venus,  helpe  too  w**^  the  rest 

so  shalt  thou  wyn  me  to  thy  deere  behest. 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  T,  fos.  66  ff.    In  praise  of  peace  with  Spain. 

2  Shakspere,  Twelfth  Night. 

3  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Philaster. 
*  Ford,  The  Lover's  Melancholy. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  23 

Grante,  grante  yee  Gods,  that  her  harde  diamonde  harte 
may  metamorphosed  be  to  softest  mould 
greate  Cupid  thou  helpe  w*^  thy  burning  darte 
she  burne  w***  heate,  rather  then  frize  w***  colde 
grante,  grante  yee  heavenly  powers  this  my  request 
w*^^  if  you  doe  I  shalbe  ever  blest. 

Even  from  the  few  preceding  examples  one  can  see  that 
when  J.  M.  in  the  Prologue  declares  that  his  purpose  is  to 
attack  the  folhes  and  sins  of  his  contemporaries  in  "yrefull 
satyrcs,  clad  in  rugged  rhymes"  and  that  his  verse  is  "a 
ragg'd  Satyrists  rougher  hewen  strain,"  he  is  only  following 
that  popular  conception  of  his  day  concerning  the  rough- 
ness and  ruggedness  of  satires.  His  verse,  it  is  true,  lacks 
the  harmony  and  musical  lightness  of  the  true  artist  of  versi- 
fication, but  the  diction  is  strikingly  free  from  labored  man- 
nerisms or  uncouth  affectations.     He  is  never  obscure. 

This  conception  that  the  satirist  must  be  savage,  obscure, 
and  rough  was  traditional.  Donne,  one  of  the  first,  if  not 
the  first,  of  the  formal  satirists  in  England,  certainly  shows 
a  contempt  of  regularity  to  an  excessive  degree,  and  his 
measure  is  often  characterized  "by  approximation  to  the 
common  speech  of  conversation."'  But  Hall,'  on  the  other 
hand,  was  metrically  an  artist  of  no  mean  skill;  and  his 
rival  Marston,^  although  not  so  regular  or  polished  in  his 
use  of  the  couplet,  yet  possessed  unmistakable  power. 
Persius,  however,  with  his  supposedly  crabbed  and  snarhng 
tone,  was  the  model  of  the  Ehzabcthan  satirist.  Marston, 
indeed,  speaks  of  the  "Hungry  fangs"  of  "Satires  sharpes 
line"  and  of  the  "knotty  rod";"*    but  he  also  writes  that 

1  R.  M.  Alden,  The  Rise  of  Formal  Satire  in  England,  p.  83. 

2  Virgidemiarum  Size  Books. 

3  The  Metamorphosis  of  Pigmalions  linage  and  Certayne  Satyr es, 
1598;   The  Scourge  of  Villanie,  1598. 

*  Satire  II,  p.  269.    Cf.  Bullen,  Marston's  Works,  Vol.  III. 


24  THE    NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

"I  hate  to  affect  too  much  obscurity  and  harshness,  because 
they  profit  no  sense"  and  that  there  are  some  "deeming  all 
satires  bastard  which  are  not  palpably  dark,  and  so  rough 
writ  that  the  hearing  of  them  read  would  set  a  man's  teeth 
on  edge."^  It  was  this  conventional  conception  of  satire 
that  made  the  author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  express 
himself  in  the  words  quoted  from  the  Prologue. 

But  even  the  statement  that  he  is  a  satirist,  or  at  least 
primarily  a  satirist,  can  be  further  questioned.  In  spite 
of  his  dedication  to  the  God  of  Spight,  as  well  as  to  Cupid, 
and  in  spite  of  his  oft-expressed  assumption  of  an  exalted 
moral  purpose,^  /.  M.  is  surely  no  writer  of  formal  satire 
based  on  classical  models,  or  even  of  the  popular  variety 
indigenous  in  England  since  the  time  of  the  Conquest  and 
reaching  its  culmination  in  Piers  Plowman  and  its  most 
extravagant  expression  in  Skelton.  He  is  rather  a  shrewd 
author  with  his  fingers  on  the  pulse  of  a  fickle  public,  trying 
to  strike  a  popular  note  to  gain  the  attention  of  the  restless, 
sensation-craving  Elizabethan.  Cupid,  we  know,  shares 
the  honor  with  Momus  as  patron  of  the  work,  and  we  also 
read  that  no  one  was  a  "patterne"  to  him  in  England,  but 

.  .  .  Ovid  alone  was  he 
that  in  this  labo'  did  encourage  me. 

Later  we  are  told  that  love  drives  his  victims  to  poetry 
and  that  the  author,  a  slave  of  the  god,  has  turned  to  this 
work  in  acknowledgment  of  the  chains  he  wears.^  Indeed, 
the  first  title-page,  reading  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  Or 
A  Feaste  of  Fancie  or  Poeticall  Legendes,  shows  indubitably 
the    original   intention    of   J.    M.     The   second   title-page, 

^  Preface  to  Scourge  of  Villanie,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  304,  305. 

2  For  example  see  Prologue,  fos.  5  verso,  6  recto;  Vol.  II,  Book  XII, 
conclusion. 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  13  verso. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  25 

reading  An  Illiad  of  Metamorphosis  Or  The  Arraignment  of 
Vice,  adds  the  idea  of  "yrcfuU  Satyres": 

t'  unvizar  those  w'^**  secretly  doe  maske 

in  selfe-conceipt,  &  their  lewde  actions  showe 

that  all  the  world  their  villainies  may  knowe.^ 

And,  even  his  naive  confession  that  he  does  not  possess  the 

time 

...  to  bestowe, 
more  labo''  on  them,^  the  rather  for  I  knowe 
bookes  of  this  nature  being  once  p[er]used 
are  ther  cast  by  &  as  brayed-ware  refused.* 

shows  that  J .  M.  intended  no  serious  work  of  instruction 
and  edification,  but  rather  purposed  to  give  "matter  of 
delight"  to  many  readers. 

There  is,  however,  much  satire  scattered  throughout  the 
many  pages,  —  satire  that  is  pungently  vigorous,  bringing 
at  times  a  nicely  etched  picture  before  the  reader,  and  again 
satire  that  rivals  in  bitterness  and  coarseness  the  vitupera- 
tive outbursts  of  the  Reformation  satirists.  This  may  be 
expressed  in  a  verse  or  two,  in  long  passages,  or,  as  is 
frequently  the  case,  it  may  furnish  the  motif  for  a  story 
of  some  length.  It  may  be  linked  closely  to  the  material 
concerning  which  the  author  is  writing,  or  again  a  chance 
word  or  an  idea  distantly  related  to  the  subject-matter  may 
be  the  occasion  for  a  digression,  often  of  interest. 

J.  M.,  in  general,  attacks  the  same  abuses  and  vices  found 
in  both  earlier  and  contemporary  satire.  He  adds  Uttle 
that  is  new.     Women  —  their  fickleness,^  love  of  gossip,^ 

1  Vol.  I,  fol.  5. 

^  The  books. 

'  Prologue,  fol.  6. 

*  Vol.  I,  fol.  G4  verso. 

s  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  42,  76  verso. 


26  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

shrewish  perversity/  extravagance  and  greed  for  money,^ 
incontinence  ^  —  are  the  theme  of  much  jocose  and  con- 
ventional abuse.  The  bawd  and  the  courtesan  are  also 
frequently  held  up  in  contumely.  The  gull,  with  his  passion 
for  absurd  fashions,  his  easy  deception  by  a  wanton  wife,* 
and  his  foolish  affectations  in  diction,^  is  also  a  popular 
and  recurring  theme.  Alchemy,^  idle  superstition,''  "fake" 
doctors,*  the  ignorance  of  the  clergy,^  usury,^°  gambling,  ^^ 
drunkenness,^^  are  all  arraigned  with  considerable  heat. 
The  nouveaux  riches  ^^  and  the  many  worthless  aspirants 
to  gentility  especially  arouse  the  author's  anger.  He 
attacks  them  with  vehemence,  writing  in  scorn  that 

ech  Kenil-raker  for  eleven  nobles  may 

have  Heralds  nowe  his  riche  coate  to  display 

for  Ravens  all  about  the  country  flie 

for  bace  reward  to  Patent-Genterie 
nay  to  compell  men  that  unwilling  be 
so  he  may  have  a  mercinary  fee 
a  fee  of  fewer  markes  he'le  accept  or  rather 
to  make  them  Gentlemen  that  had  no  father 
base  &  lowe  ranke  clownes.    Artificers 
for  he  his  prey  'bove  all  respects  prefers 

so  some  are  nowe  gro'v\Tie  ancient  Gentlemen 

who  by  the  yeare  of  pounds  can  scarce  spende  ten 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  19  verso,  71  verso;   Vol.  II,  fol.  124  verso. 

»  Vol.  I,  fol.  74;   Vol.  II,  fos.  10  ff. 

'  Vol.  I,  fol.  75  verso. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  78  ff.;   Vol.  II,  fos.  71,  138,  257  verso  £f. 

6  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  X. 

»  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  28  verso. 

^  Vol.  I,  fos.  68,  76  verso;   Vol.  II,  53  verso. 

8  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  46;   Vol.  II,  fos.  98  verso  ff. 

9  Vol.  II,  fos.  96  ff. 

"  Vol.  II,  fos.  258  verso  ff.  12  Vol.  II,  fos.  234  ff. 

"  Vol.  II,  fos.  116  verso  flf.  i^  Vol.  II,  fos.  263  ff. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  27 

and  base  Mechanicks  that  but  Barbers  be 
doe  boast  themselves  nowe  of  their  Genterie. 
I  merv'aile  much  that  that  same  noble  vice 
should  Gnats  &  Wormes  unto  its  lure  entice 
that  Butterflies  &  caterpillers  should 
seeke  to  adorne  themselves  in  cloth  of  gold. 

But  when  J.  M.  speaks  of  lawyers,  of  faithless  magis- 
trates and  evil  executors  ^  robbing  the  orphan,  of  Spain,  the 
traditional  enemy  of  his  country,^  of  traitors  to  his  ruler, 
and  preeminently  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  ^'  ^  we  find  a 
ringing  note  of  hearty  sincerity  in  his  utterances,  a  sterner 
voice  arraigning  what  he  believes  to  be  the  most  insidious 
and  dangerous  enemies  of  England.  The  follies  and  idio- 
syncrasies of  his  equals,  the  petty  ambitions  and  mean- 
nesses of  those  about  him,  excite  a  rather  contemptuously 
amused  attitude;  but  traitors  to  his  country  and  to  his 
religion  call  forth  anathemas. 

The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  however,  is  essentially  a  col- 
lection of  stories,  the  majority  of  them  of  evildoers  who 
by  some  metamorphosis  are  punished  by  the  enraged  gods. 
It  is  a  continuation  in  verse  of  the  popular  work  of  Painter, 
Fenton,  Pettie,  Rich,^  and  their  imitators,  except  that 
Ovid  and  contemporary  life  often  furnished  the  coloring 
and  motif. 

1  Vol.  I,  fos.  83  ff.,  88;  Part  II,  fol.  97;   Vol.  II,  fos.  75  ff. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  122  verso  ff. 

»  Vol.  I,  Book  X,  and  Vol.  II,  Book  X,  especially. 

*  In  Vol.  II,  Book  X,  fol.  232  verso,  J.  M.  speaks  of  his  attacks  on 
the  "Cathohque  Church";  in  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  91  verso  he  refers 
to  his  attacks  on  the  "holy  Clarkes"  of  Rome.  He  considers  all  those 
who  recognize  the  spiritual  authority  of  the  Pope  as  "  Catholique," 
and  he  attacks  in  the  manuscript  not  only  the  ceremonies  of  the  Roman 
Chm-ch,  but  also  its  followers.  In  the  following  pages  I  use  the  term 
"Roman  CathoUc"  in  the  accepted  sense. 

^  Sixteenth-century  writers  of  prose  tales  based  usually  on  Italian 
novels. 


28  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

J.  M.  knew  that  love  tales,  and  especially  stories  of  meta- 
morphosis, were  popular  in  England,  ScilWs  Metamor- 
phosis  had  appeared  in  1589/  Venus  and  Adonis  had 
certainly  met  with  favor;  there  was  a  second  edition  of  Hero 
and  Leander  in  1600;^  and  Marston's  PygiJialion,^  in  spite — 
or  possibly  because  —  of  its  want  of  delicacy,  became  so 
widely  circulated  that  Archbishop  Whitgift  ordered  it 
consigned  to  the  flames  along  with  certain  other  offensive 
works.^  Jervase  Markham,  in  the  same  year  that  saw 
Venus  and  Adonis  given  to  the  pubhc,  entered  in  the  Sta- 
tioners' Register  a  work,  now  lost,  called  Thyrsis  and 
Daphne,^  which  may  have  belonged  to  this  class.® 

J.  M.,  planning  to  catch  the  ear  of  a  volatile  public, 
combined  this  metamorphosis  motif  with  its  tendency  to 
indeUcacy  and  "wanton  rhymes"  to  that  of  satire.  Indeed, 
he  probably  justified  himself  in  this  way,  in  anticipation 
against  the  charge  of  licentiousness,  by  donning  a  mask  of 
conventional  morality,  which  at  times  he  frankly  drops  when 
the  piquancy  and  zest  of  a  certain  episode  appeal  too  strongly 
to  him  ^  or  when  his  inherent  moral  strength  and  hatred  of 
certain  kinds  of  cant  and  hypocrisy  stir  him  from  his  pose.* 

In  addition  to  the  popularity  of  the  0 vidian  poem,  offer- 
ing both  an  opportunity  for  the  excess  mellifluence  and  for 

^  Thomas  Lodge. 

2  Two  editions  of  Hero  and  Leander  had  appeared  in  1598,  the  first 
edition  containing  only  Marlowe's  work. 

^  The  Metamorphosis  of  Pygmalions  Image  and  certayne  Satyres, 
entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register  on  May  27,  1598. 

*  June,  1599.  Hall,  Guilpin,  Cutwood,  Davies,  and  Marlowe  were 
among  those  punished  with  Marston. 

*  Venus  and  Adonis  entered  April  18,  1593. 

^  Francis  Beaumont's  Salmacis  and  Hermaphroditus  was  published 
in  1602. 

^  Many  examples  of  this;  one  is  Vol.  1,  fos.  40  verso  ff. 

*  Vol.  I,  Book  X,  is  an  example. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  29 

the  tendency  to  indelicate  details  so  attractive  to  the  Eliza- 
bethan, the  word  "Metamorphosis"  was  most  popular  as 
a  title  during  the  decade  before  the  death  of  Elizabeth  and 
in  the  first  years  of  the  reign  of  James.  Besides  being  used 
in  the  poems  before  mentioned,  we  find  the  popular  trans- 
lator of  Orlando  Furioso  shocking  and  amusing  the  not  too 
fastidious  court  by  his  A  new  Discourse  of  a  Stale  Subject, 
called  the  Metamor'phosis  of  Ajax,  ^  which,  chiefly  because 
of  its  satiric  grossness  and  broad  humor,  was  printed  three 
times  in  one  year.  In  1600,  the  year  that  J.  M.  commenced 
his  work,  we  find  the  "semi-allegorical"  and  semi-satiric^ 
Transformed  Metamorphosis  of  Cyi'il  Tourneur,  which  in 
its  attacks  on  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,^  its  allusions  to 
Essex'  Irish  campaign,^  and  its  conclusion  dealing  with  the 
coming  of  James  as  the  defender  of  Protestanism  strikes 
many  notes  touched  in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  The  same 
year  also  saw  the  entering  in  the  Stationers'  Register  of  the 
dramas,  Maids  Metamorphosis  and  Loves  Metamorphosis. 

This  popularity  of  the  Ovidian  poem,  of  satire,  of  the 
metamorphosis  title,  and  especially  of  collections  of  stories 
undoubtedly  prompted  J.  M.  to  the  choice  of  the  subject- 
matter  and  the  title  of  this  manuscript  with  the  result 
that  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  reflects  to  a  marked  degree 
the  tastes  of  the  period. 

As  J.  M.  writes  in  the  Prologue  that  Ovid  alone  was  his 
"patterne,"  the  reader  might  expect  that  in  the  pages  fol- 
lowing he  would  find  a  series  of  Ovidian  stories.     From 

1  Published  1596.  Mr.  Steevens  in  his  edition  of  Shakespere,  1793, 
Vol.  5,  p.  354,  says  that  "a  licence  was  refused  for  printing  this  book, 
and  the  author  was  forbid  the  court  for  writing  it." 

"^  Tourneur's  Plays  and  Poems,  ed.  Chui-ton  Collins,  Vol.  II,  has 
an  analysis  of  The  Transformed  Metamorphosis. 

»  Stanzas  43-50. 

*  Stanzas  57-71. 


30  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Ovid  J.  M.  has  borrowed,  indeed,  the  idea  of  the  metamor- 
phosis, which  he  uses  indiscriminately  and  with  charming 
naivete  for  virgins  either  betrayed  by  lustful  gods^  or 
escaping  from  lecherous  pursuers,^  for  wantons,^  gluttons,* 
gossips,^  drunkards,^  lawyers,  gamblers,''  gulls,^  dandies,^ 
murderers,^*'  Spaniards,"  Irish  kerns, ^^  witches,^^  friars  and 
nuns,^*  popes,^*  and  many  others  belonging  to  the  land  of 
fairies,  mythical  Egypt,  classical  Greece  and  Rome,  or  to 
the  poet's  own  environment.  Indeed,  the  great  Elizabeth 
herself  is  found  after  death  among  the  gods,^^  and  the  la- 
mented Prince  Henry  ^^  becomes  "a  perpetuall  Roy"  ruling 
a  heavenly  kingdom  and  benificently  aiding  the  English 
people. 
J.  M.  almost  invariably,  however,  in  contrast  to  Ovid, 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  8  verso  ff. 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  42  recto  and  verso.  Lyaeus,  changed  to  the 
grapevine,  is  honored  by  Bacchus. 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  I.  Bacchus  turns  wanton  Sabella  to  a  "tamarisk- 
tree,"  her  husband,  a  sodomist,  to  an  elder. 

*  Vol.  II,  fol.  245  verso. 

5  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  34  verso. 
«  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  36  verso. 
7  Vol.  II,  fol.  18. 
«  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  90  recto. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  78.  Mercury  places  the  dandy,  always  chang- 
ing the  fashions,  into  the  inconstant  moon. 

i«  Vol.  II,  fol.  20. 

"  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  134. 

12  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  19  to  21  verso.  The  evil  kerns  are  changed  to 
wolves. 

"  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  80  verso.  The  Scottish  witch  is  changed  to  a 
crocodile,  her  helpers  to  crabs. 

"  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  11  and  following.  Cupid  changes  a  wanton 
nun  to  a  smoking  altar,  the  monk  to  the  fire  on  it. 

«  Vol.  II,  Book  X. 

16  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  136  verso. 

"  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  232  verso. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  31 

uses  the  act  of  metamorphosis  for  punishment  of  sins  against 
the  moral  code.  In  this  way  his  subtitle,  The  Arraignment 
of  Vice,^  is  justified  even  when  the  author  has  been  relating 
the  gayest  and  most  risque  of  fabliaux.  But  there  are 
several  exceptions  to  this  practice.  For  example,  the  pure 
Matilda,^  wooed  by  the  lecherous  king  Mempricius,  even 
after  the  death  of  a  devoted  husband  with  whom  she  had 
fled  disguised,  refused  to  listen  to  the  insidious  blandish- 
ments of  her  ruler  and  the  garrulous  old  bawd  who  panders 
to  his  lust.  To  escape  her  fate,  by  a  clever  ruse  she  jumps 
into  a  huge  fire,  made  in  honor  of  the  king,  and  is  changed 
by  the  kindly  Juno  into  the  Salamander  and 

from  hurt  by  fyre,  was  made  for  ever  free.^ 

Another  example  of  a  kindly  metamorphosis  is  found  in  the 
romantic  tale  of  Arabianus  and  his  Phoenicia.^  He  was 
the  ardent  young  king  of  a  country  near  the  "Pigmies 
land"  who  had  become  inflamed  with  love  by  seeing  the 
picture  of  the  daughter  of  the  emperor  of  Germany.  He 
wooed  her  with  gifts  and  eventually  won  her.  Later  he 
was  killed  in  single  combat.  The  young  grief-stricken 
wife  flung  herseK  into  the  funeral  pyre  and  was  metamor- 
phosed into  the  Phoenix.  A  more  pleasing  end  of  love 
awaited  the  faithful  and  virtuous  shepherd  and  his  wife,^ 
who,  after  a  life  which  exemplified  all  the  Arcadian  virtues 
and  which  was  filled  with  incidents  recalling  Penelope  and 
her  suitors,  Joseph  and  Potiphar's  wife,  and  the  pirate 
adventures  of  the  Spanish  Main,  were  translated  into  two 
stately  palms  on  opposite  sides 

1  Vol.  I,  fol.  3. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  9  verso  ff. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  16. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  IX,  to  fol.  48  verso. 
»  Vol.  II,  Book  II,  fos.  21  verso  ff. 


32  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

of  Erymanthus  sweete,  a  Ry\'er  A^yde, 
and 

though  a  broad  River  did  betweene  them  run 
their  arms  grewe  over  it,  where  still  they  meete 
w***  kynde  embraces  they  ech  other  greete.^ 

But  J.  M.  not  only  borrows  the  idea  of  a  metamorphosis 
from  his  master  Ovid;  he  has  also  taken  bodily  many 
incidents  from  the  Roman  poet  and  at  times  parallels  closely 
the  Metamorphoses.  Indeed,  several  of  the  tales  in  The  Newe 
Metamorphosis  center  about  an  amorous  god  or  goddess, 
and  in  theme,  at  least,  these  might  take  their  place  in  the 
work  of  his  prototype.  Jupiter  woos  a  not  coy  Venus  in 
the  guise  of  a  sparrow,^  very  much  in  the  same  fashion 
as  in  the  semblance  of  a  swan  he  betrays  the  innocent 
Leda.  Neptune,  having  satisfied  his  desire  with  AmaUna,^ 
the  lovely  daughter  of  Venus  and  the  lusty  helper  of  Vulcan, 
in  order  to  prove  to  her  the  pleasures  of  each  sex  grants  her 
the  favor  of  becoming  a  man.  This,  of  course,  recalls 
Teresias  ■*  with  his  dual  sex.  The  Grecian  goatherd,  Malisco, 
rapes  his  daughter  Oechaia,^  and  then,  in  order  to  conceal 
his  crime,  tears  out  her  tongue  and  brutally  maltreats  her. 
He  falls  victim  to  his  lust  in  much  the  same  manner  as 
Tereus,^  who  attacks  Philomela,  the  sister  of  his  wife. 
The  vivid  picture  of  guilty  love  and  fear  in  both  stories 
has  much  in  common.  And  as  Tereus,  in  ignorance,  eats 
the  body  of  his  young  son,  so  a  brutal  father,  driving  his 
heir  and  the  maiden  to  whom  he  had  been  betrothed  to 

1  Vol.  II,  Book  II,  fol.  37. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  14  verso. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  50. 

*  Ov-id,  Metamorphoses,  Book  III,  Fable  V. 
6  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  30  ff. 

6  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  Book  VI,  Fables  V  and  VI.  Pettie  in  his 
A  Petite  Pallace  of  Pettie  His  Pleasure,  tells  this  for  his  second  story. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  33 

suicide  by  his  cruel  treatment,  feasts  on  the  body  which 
had  been  transformed  into  a  carp.^  Again  we  find  Leda, 
after  she  had  transformed  the  country  clowns  into  frogs 
because  of  their  disrespect,^  travel-stained,  foot-sore,  and 
hungry,  with  a  babe  in  each  arm,  reaching  Germany.' 
She  comes  to  "The  Hage"  and 

...  as  she  thus  travailed 
of  a  greate  Lady  she  did  begge  for  breade 
who  in  ech  arme  when  she  a  Babe  did  spie 
protested  she  w'^^  more  then  one  did  Ij'^e 
that  they  were  not  the  children  of  one  father 
she  often  cald  her  Whore,  so  much  the  rather 
because  she  bore  two  children  at  a  birth 
nor  spake  she  iestingly,  nor  yet  in  mirth 
but  w*^  vile  taunts  &  contumeUous  words 
w*"^  her  malignant  spirit  her  affourds. 

Leda  is  angered  at  these  undeserved  gibes.  She  prays  to 
her  lover,  Jove,  to  punish  the  virulent  Margarita,fand  as 
a  result 

she  fell  in  travaile  &  therew*^  was  tyred  * 

the  Midwife  &  the  neighboures  all  aboute 

of  her  deliverance  began  to  doubt 

greate  prayers  she  had,  at  length  was  brought  a  bed 

and  of  Three  hundred  sixty  five  deUvered 

of  Boys  &  girls. 

The  poet  tells  the  reader  this  event  occurred  in  the  year 
1276  and  that 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  folio  7  verso. 

*  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  Book  IV,  Fable  III. 
3  Vol.  II,  fos.  83  verso  ff. 

*  Vol.  II,  fol.  84  verso. 


34  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

neere  unto  Hage  they  buryed  doe  lye 
riclily  intombed  for  better  memorie 
w*'*  in  the  Monastery  of  S*  Barnardo  there 
who  doubteth  it,  may  see  it  plaine  appeare 
upon  the  tombe,  their  pictures  you  may  see.^ 

1  have  quoted  this  surprising  and  eminently  adequate 
punishment  because  it  is  an  excellent  example  of  how  the 
author,  with  the  amazing  freedom  of  a  typical  Elizabethan, 
at  times  mingles  classical  figures  and  motifs  with  medieval 
legends,  with  metrical  romances,  with  the  ribald  jests  of 
the  fabliau,  with  the  witchcraft  theme,  and  with  the  erotic 
and  intricate  intrigue  of  the  novelle. 

Another  striking  example  of  this  freedom  of  treatment  we 
find  in  two  stories  of  Bacchus,  who,  journeying  among 
mortals,  comes  in  the  morning  to  a  London  house  of  ill 
fame.     Here  he  meets  ^ 

A  crookt  old  Beldame  .  .  . 

a  foule  mishapen-platter  faced-blayne 

as  black  as  Luce  .  .  .' 

who  tells  him  of  her  charming  Puten,  who  was  so  ardently 
sought  by  the  London  gallant  that 

White  Fryers,  then  was  left  quite  unfrequented 
Clarton-well,^  Bancks-side  &  Pickt-hatch,  repented 
that  ever  she  so  comonly  was  knowne 
for  that  their  houses  out  of  use  were  growne.^ 

^  Marie  of  France,  in  Le  Fraine,  has  the  same  incident.  A  woman 
who  upbraids  another  with  the  charge  of  unfaithfulness  because  of 
twins  also  bears  twins. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  38  ff. 

'  Luce,  the  bawd,  has  akeady  been  mentioned.  Cf.  Vol.  I,  Part  I, 
fol.  23  verso. 

^  Waldron,  in  the  margin  of  the  page,  has  written  Clerkenwell. 
*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  38  verso. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  35 

And  she  calls: 

"Mai  Newberry,  come  thou  in  Putens  steade 

come  forth  Franck  Twiste,  my  wench  w*"^  ycalowe  haire 

for  such  encounters  she  will  soon  prepare 

Bes  Lister  come  my  prety  nymble  Trull 

And  this  same  Bacchus,  pictured  here  as  a  callow  youth, 
a  little  later  becomes  the  Ovidian  god  pursuing  the  nymph 

Lyaeus, 

.  .  .  whom  he  followed  fast 
she  as  fast,  did  fly  away  aghast 
even  as  the  Harte  flees  by  the  grey  hound  chased 
So  runs  Lyaeus  ^  .  .  . 

feare  makes  more  speede  then  hope,  yet  he  runs  fast 
feare  runs  for  hfe,  hope  runs  for  pleasures  taste. 

The  amorous  Bacchus  urges  her  to  rest;  he  assures  her  of 
his  consuming  love  and  of  her  future  abode  among  the 
gods,  but  his  prayers  are  of  no  avail: 

Her  armes  and  fingers  were  made  branches  then 
broade  leaves  grewe  upon  her  fingers  ten. 

She  becomes  the  grapevine,  and  her  lover  exclaims: 

"Thou  shalt  be  Bacchus  love  aUve  &  dead 
(said  then  the  God)  and  henceforth  from  my  head 
He  shake  the  yoie  garland  &  put  on 
thy  comfortable  branches." 

The  first  adventure  of  the  god  and  the  fawning  panderess 
is  both  Elizabethan  in  atmosphere  and  treatment  —  an 
original  bit  of  realism ;  his  love  and  pursuit  of  the  frightened 
nymph  are  close  parallels  of  the  graceful  story  of  Apollo 
and  Daphne,  or  of  Pan  and  Syrinx.^ 

There  are  many  examples,  however,  in  The  Newe  Meta- 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  42  ff. 

^  Ovid,  The  Metamorphoses,  Book  I,  Fables  XII  and  XV. 


36  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

morphosis  of  fabliaux  in  which  we  find  the  Olympian  deities 
taking  no  part,  or,  at  least,  appearing  in  a  perfunctory 
fashion.  These  tales,  it  is  true,  are  coarse,  full  of  the  broad 
wit  and  rough  fun  of  the  Jest  Books,  and  they  deal  with  the 
customary  themes  of  the  profligacy  and  pertinacity  of 
women,  the  ignorant  superstition  of  the  illiterate,  and  the 
crassitude  of  the  gull;  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  the  best  of 
these  are  so  filled  with  a  gay  sensuality  and  a  joy  of  life 
arising  from  the  virile  personality  of  the  author  that  they 
show  J.  M.  at  his  best  as  a  story-teller. 

"The  greatest  masters  of  the  farcical  romances  cannot 
measure  swords  with  Chaucer,"^  and  so  it  is  fitting  that 
J.  M.,  reveling  in  this  genre,  should  not  only  pay  a  small 
tribute  to 

.  .  .  S'"  Jeffr'y  Chaucer  he 

the  first  life  given  to  o''  poesie  ^ 

but  also  should  borrow  plan  and  incidents,  and,  with  slight 
modifications,  a  story  from  the  Canterbury  Tales. 

A  wrinkled  and  feeble  Saturn  woos  a  very  youthful 
Lady  May  ^  in  much  the  same  manner  as  the  amorous 
Januarie  of  Chaucer,  in  spite  of  Placebo's  admonitions, 
prepares  to  marry  in  his  dotage.'*  Like  his  immortal  prede- 
cessor the  absurd  old  man  apes  juvenihty  and  anticipates 
with  senile  lust  his  marriage.^  Another  time  J.  M.  tells 
of  a  husband  who  was  paid  for  the  injury  done  to  his  honor 
by  money  which  he  had  given  to  his  wife,  recalling  the 
wily  Daun  John  of  the  Shipman's  Tale,^  and  of  a  shrewish 

^  Ten  Brink,  Hist,  of  Eng.  Lit.,  Vol.  II,  p.  154,  English  translation, 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  90  verso. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  2  verso  ff .    This  is  given  in  Chap.  VI. 

^  Chaucer's  Works,  Globe  edition.  The  Merchant's  Tale,  pp.  203  ff. 
5  Vol.  II,  fos.  138  ff. 

^  Chaucer's  Works,  Globe  edition,  p.  84.  Boccaccio,  Decameron, 
Eighth  Day,  Novel  I,  has  the  same  incident. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  37 

wife  who  ruled  her  husband  and  who  boasted  that 

"I'le  never  give  consent  to  be  inferior 
rie  equall  be  at  least,  if  not  superior 

I  scorne  t'  obey  my  husbands  stoute  comande 
rie  make  him  stande  &  pray  w***  cap  in  hande 
I'le  make  the  house  too  hotte  for  such  an  one."  ^ 

She  even  surpasses  the  garrulous,  whimsical,  and  immortal 
wife  of  Bath  in  that 

Six  husbands  too,  before  this  she  hath  had 
this  was  the  seaventh  .  .  .  ^ 

A  godly  Parson  also  is  pictured.  He  is  one  of  the  reckless 
company  of  a  ship  of  war  who  decide  to  relieve  the  tedium 
of  their  voyage  by  story-telling.     The  Shipmaster, 

...  a  corpulent  fatte  Swadde 
a  bon-companion,  a  right  Joviall  lad,' 

voluble  and  contentious,  had  proposed 

"...  a  project  rare 
come  my  brave  hearts,  y'  noble  tales  prepare 
se  how  w'  are  freinded  w*^  swete  pleasant  gales 
now  have  at  Chaucers  Canterburie  Tales 
As  I  went  to  Canterbury  to  St.  Beckets  shryne."  * 

This  Parson  had  justly  rebuked  the  coarseness  of  some  of 
his  companions  and  had  discussed  learnedly  and  at  length 
of  the  commonwealth,  lots  profane  or  favored  by  God, 
and  the  planting  of  colonies  in  Virginia  and  Ireland.  The 
arrogant  Master,  taking  umbrage  at  some  of  his  remarks, 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  88  ff. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  88  verso. 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  129. 

*  Vol.  II,  fol.  130  verso. 


38  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

exclaims   that   the   Parson    "lewdly"    plays   with   bishops' 
orders  and  king's  lawes,  and  remarks  that 

"what  er  is  don,  you  Puritans  mislike 

though  not  w*^  fists,  yet  w**^  y""  tongues  yow  strike."  ^ 

This  good  Parson  not  only  resembles  the  godly  man 
found  in  the  immortal  pilgrimage  to  Canterbury,  but  like 
the  latter,  who  is  suspected  of  being  a  Lollard,^  he  bears 
the  contumely  of  being  called  a  Puritan.  J.  M.  in  creating 
this  character  certainly  had  Chaucer  in  mind. 

One  tale,  however,  follows  Chaucer  even  more  closely. 
The  immortal  Reeve's  Tale,  in  which  is  displayed  a  "talent 
for  invention,  characterization,  and  motives,  and  a  comic 
power  such  as  were  never  again  attained  in  this  class,"  ^  serves 
as  the  model.  J.  M.  certainly  does  not  possess  the  con- 
structive or  analytic  genius  of  his  master,  and  his  story  of 
the  superstitious  Bolton,^  fearing  a  recurrence  of  the  Flood, 
and  of  the  wanton  wife  and  the  lusty  miller,  whose  intrigue 
forms  a  realistic  subplot,  lacks  the  masterly  presentation 
of  its  model.  Still  there  is  a  serious  attempt  at  characteriza- 
tion which,  with  the  extravagant  comedy  intermingled 
with  much  rather  flippant  irony,  leads  to  the  cleverly  man- 
aged and  dramatic  denouement  and  shows  the  author  of 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis  in  his  merriest  vein.^ 

Indeed,  it  is  in  the  fabliau  that  our  author  seems  to  be  in 
his  element.  There  are  many  tales  of  this  type  in  the  col- 
lection, some  marred  by  an  obscenity  which  is  not  rendered 
less  objectionable,  as  in  the  case  in  Chaucer,  by  great  art. 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  137. 

2  Chaucer's  Works,  Globe  edition,  p.  79. 

^  Ten  Brink,  Hist,  of  Eng.  Ldt.,  Vol.  II,  p.  154,  English  translation. 

*  Vol.  II,  fos.  51  verso  ff. 

^  This  tale  is  given  almost  entirely  in  the  selections  in  Chap.  VI. 
The  story  of  the  man  who  awaits  the  end  of  the  world  by  flood  is  also 
told  by  Valentin  Schumann,  1599.  Cf.  Root,  The  Poetry  of  Chaucer, 
p.  174. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  39 

In  fact,  a  rollicking  and  irrepressible  Steward  of  a  ship's 
company,  who  revels  in  drink  and  bawdy  stories  and  re- 
joices in  poking  fun  at  his  superiors,  even  offends  by  his 
wanton  narrative  the  none  too  nice  Master  of  his  ship,  who 
exclaims : 

"for  bawdy  tales,  thou  most  compare  w***  any 
sure  Italy  like  thee  affourds  not  many."  ^ 

But  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  does  not  only  draw  from 
Ovid,  Chaucer,  and  fabliau  material;  the  author,  with  that 
facile  aptitude  of  his  contemporaries  of  gleaning  whatever 
might  be  of  interest  to  them  from  all  possible  sources  and 
of  refurbishing  their  material  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it 
difficult  to  recognize,  although  it  may  be  full  of  haunting 
reminiscences,  has  levied  contributions  from  a  variety  of 
material,  both  classical  and  romantic,  historical  and  legen- 
dary, religious  and  profane.  The  result  is  that  The  Newe 
Metamorphosis  is  a  perplexing  potpourri  of  learning,  super- 
stition, and  popular  motifs  which  must  be  disentangled  in 
some  degree  in  order  to  understand  the  manuscript. 

J.  M.,  in  addition  to  the  influences  mentioned,  admires, 

.  .  .  noble  Spenser  nowe  of  fairest  fame 
whose  glorious  workes  imortalize  his  name.^ 

Spenser  not  only  furnished  names  to  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
and  affected  the  plan  of  the  poem  in  important  ways,^ 
but  J.  M.  introduces  a  chronicle  of  British  kings,  com- 
mencing in  place  of  Brute  ■*  with  Adam,  God's 

.  .  .  earthlie  eldest  son 
and  this  our  lynage  even  from  God  doth  come;  ^ 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  166  verso. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  91. 
^  Discussed  on  page  46. 

*  Spenser,  Fairy  Queen,  Book  III,  Canto  III. 
«  Vol.  II,  fol.  249  verso. 


40  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

numerous  conventional  marriages  of  rivers,  recalling  the 
union  of  the  Thames  and  Medway;  ^  and  a  description  and 
prophesy  of  the  seer,  Merlin, ^  resembling  in  many  details 
that  of  Spenser.^  He  also  tells  a  story  of  love  and  of 
tourneys,'*  of  a  fair  lady's  gift  to  her  knight,  and  of  a 
snow-white  palfrey,  which,  could  take  its  place  in  metrical 
romance  or  among  the  adventures  of  The  Faerie  Queened 
Of  course,  /.  M.  lacks  the  exquisite  melody  and  the  delicate 
fancifulness  and  spirituality  of  Spenser;  he  possesses, 
however,  a  vigor  and  a  certain  sturdy  directness  which  have 
an  undeniable  charm  of  their  own. 

The  pastoral  also  attracts  the  author  of  The  Newe  Meta- 
morphosis, The  most  characteristic  shows  the  land  of 
Arcadia,^ 

Arcadia  is  a  country  much  renownd, 

with  wooing  shepherds  and  a  lovely  shepherdess.  But  the 
author  also  introduces  in  this  story  English  shires,  pirates, 
Turks,  and  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

In  this  Arcadia  a  happy  shepherd  and  his  wife,  in  spite 
of  prosperity,  hved  in  a  modest  way  and  did  not 

.  .  .  like  to  Courtiers  clad  in  silke  and  gold 

strout  in  puft  pride,  as  full  as  they  might  holde. 

In  addition  to  these  fabliaux,  romances,  pastorals,  and 
Ovidian  tales,  the  manuscript  affords  the  reader  even  a  more 
varied  choice.  The  Muse  Thalia  speaks  of  inventions; '' 
the  chronicles  furnish  a  stereotyped  list  of  kings  ;^  the  defeat 

^  Spenser,  Fairy  Queen,  Book  IV,  Canto  XI. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  115  verso. 

^  Spenser,  Fairie  Queen,  Book  III,  Canto  III. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  40  verso. 

*  The  author  mentions  in  this  story  his  "author,"  Vol.  I,  Part  II, 
fos.  21  verso  ff. 

«  Vol.  II,  Book,  II,  fos.  21  verso  ff. 

7  Vol.  I,  fol.  69.  8  Vol.  II,  fol.  249  verso. 


THE    MANUSCRIPT  41 

of  the  Armada/  the  sacking  of  Cadiz/  and  the  Gunpowder 
Plot  ^  are,  examples  of  historical  narrative;  semihistorical 
pirates  and  robbers/  the  medicinal  qualities  of  various 
mineral  springs/  and  even  a  "town  and  a  gown"  prank  at 
Cambridge  ^  help  to  lend  variety  to  the  narrative;  and 
demonology   is   represented   by   Irish  witches.     He  writes: 

...  in  Riddles  &  in  Seeves  they  ride 

upon  the  face  of  Neptunes  foaming  browe 

(for  not  on  foote,  or  horsebacke  ride  they  nowe) 

w*^  flaggons  full  of  merry-makinge-wyne 

w''^  to  more  iollity  make  them  enclyne 

that  on  the  sea,  they  freely  did  carrouse 

they  feare  not  drowning  though  the  billowes  souse 

their  leaking  vessels,  making  them  to  daunce 

nowe  high,  nowe  lowe,  as  barbed  horses  pranse. 

That  is  a  token  sure  a  wytch  to  knowe 

they  will  not  drowne  though  yo"  in  sea  them  throwe.'^ 

There  are  also  in  this  manuscript  many  tales  exempli- 
fying the  Reformation  attitude  toward  the  Papacy  and  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church.  Mars  and  Vulcan  have  sordid 
intrigues  with  wanton  nuns/  and  dissolute  priests  urge 
chaste  wives  to  dishonor.^  Again,  the  popes  themselves, 
dignitaries  of  the  Roman  Church,  and  plotters,  such 
as  the  soldier  of  fortune  Fawkes  and  the  crafty  Garnet,  ^° 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  123. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  119. 

3  Vol.  II,  Book  X. 

*  Vol.  I,  fol.  66,  and  Vol.  II,  fol.  32  verso. 

6  Vol.  II,  fol.  95  flf. 

8  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  30. 

^  Vol.  I,  fol.  77  verso.  This  story  is  taken  from  a  pamphlet,  Newes 
from  Scotland,  printed  for  William  Wright.  Cf.  Pitcairn's  Criminal 
Trials,  Vol.  I,  pp.  213  ff.    J.  M.  has  followed  his  original  very  closely. 

8  Vol.  II,  fos.  46  ff. 

9  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  20  ff. 

1"  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  X,  and  Vol.  II,  Book  X. 


42  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

are  arraigned  at  times  with  direct  abuse;  again,  they  play 
a  part  as  the  vilHans  in  some  story.  Indeed,  Garnet  is 
given  the  place  of  Charon  and  Pope  Sextus  that  of  Cerberus 
in  a  hell  which  is  peopled  only  by  Roman  Catholics.^  The 
author  himself,  possibly  influenced  by  Virgil  and  Dante, 
visits  the  lower  regions,^  where  he  sees  all  former  popes 
and  their  supporters. 

The  stories  of  intrigue  —  the  narratives  of  unfaithful 
husbands,  of  giddy  wives,  and  of  determined  lovers  —  fill 
many  pages  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  This  type  of  story 
was  undoubtedly  drawn  from  Italian  and  other  continental 
sources  or  from  their  numerous  English  translations.  In 
the  second  volume,  where  J.  M.  forgets  more  frequently 
his  "patterne"  Ovid,  and  the  lustful  Olympians  appear 
only  to  effect  a  metamorphosis,  fabliaux  and  novelettes 
appear  in  rapid  succession  ^  and  often  with  happy  effect. 
One  exceptional  story  of  intrigue  —  a  melange  of  many 
motifs  —  leads  us  to  an  enchanted  palace,  pictured  with  the 
wealth  of  detail  which  we  find  in  the  House  of  Fame  or  in 
The  Faerie  Queene,  and  also  to  a  burly  negro  succubus.^ 

When  the  reader  finishes  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  he 
may  well  agree  with  the  author  ^  that  in  this  diverse  material 
one  will  find  something  to  interest,  something  to  please. 
He  may  weary  of  the  stories,  but  the  frequent  digressions, 
the  satire,  sometimes  conventional,  often  refreshing,  and 
the  homely  reflections  and  quaint  folklore  keep  his  attention 
from  flagging. 

Let  us  now  turn  from  the  types  of  stories  found  in  this 
manuscript  to  some  of  the  authorities  J.  M.  mentions  in 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  211  ff. 

2  Vol.  II,  fos.  212  ff. 

3  Vol.  II,  Books  VIII  and  IX. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  71  ff. 

*  Prologue. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  43 

his  work.  In  the  Prologue,  we  have  seen,  he  states  that 
Ovid  was  the  only  one. 

that  in  this  labor  did  encourage  me; 

but  in  addition  to  the  author  of  the  Metamorphoses,  his 
debt  to  others  is  undoubtedly  large.  Few  of  his  stories 
are  of  his  own  invention.  His  originals  could  be  discovered, 
possibly,  in  French  fabliau,^  in  classical  and  Oriental 
collections,  in  legendary  folklore,  in  Italian  novelle,  and  in 
the  chronicles.  It  is  true,  however,  that  at  times  he  draws 
from  contemporary  incidents.  He  takes  what  he  wants 
freely,  and  he  acknowledges  no  obligation.  But  when  his 
source  may  add  to  his  reputation  of  learning  and  to  his 
genial  tone  of  authority,  J.  M.  mentions  it  with  scholarly 
care,  often  referring  in  the  margin  to  the  page  whence  he 
drew  his  information.  Plutarch  ^ — both  his  Lives  and  his 
Morals  —  is  frequently  mentioned ;  the  former  work  espe- 
cially is  repeatedly  referred  to.^  Phny's  Natural  History  * 
often  helps  to  embelhsh  the  narrative.  There  are  refer- 
ences also  to  Stowe,^  Purchas,^  Capgrave,^  Milles'  The 
Treasurie  of  Auncient  and  Moderne  Times,*  Ortelius'  Maps,^ 

^  Les  Cent  Nouvelles  contains  several  stories  with  the  same  incidents. 
Boccaccio,  Decameron,  Tenth  Day,  Novel  IV,  was  probably  the  source 
for  /.  M's  story  of  the  lover  finding  his  mistress  in  a  tomb.  Cf.  Vol. 
II,  fos.  156-161  verso.  Turbeville  also  tells  this  story  in  his  Tragicall 
Tales. 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  48  verso,  and  Vol.  II,  fol.  105,  are  examples. 

'  Examples  are  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  71  and  85  verso. 

*  Vol.  II,  fol.  224  verso. 

f-  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  34;   Vol.  II,  fol.  195. 
«  Vol.  II,  fol.  117  verso. 
'  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  64. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  49.  There  are  many  references  to  this  work. 
It  was  published  1613-1619. 

'  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  30.  His  Theatrum  Orhis  Terrarum  was  pub- 
Ushed  1570. 


44  THE    NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

Ralegh/  Suetonius,^  the  Portuguese  Acosta,^  and  Chau- 
cer.'* The  conscientious  tailor-chronicler  and  diligent  maker 
of  maps,  John  Speed,  not  only  is  used  frequently  as  an 
authority,^  but  he  is  paid  an  admiringly  labored  tribute. 
Cupid  being  banished  from  ''his  regall  throne"^  comes  to 
Faiery, 

a  fertill  countrie  &  a  pleasant  soile, 

and  those  who  doubt  the  truth  of  this, 

The  Theatre  of  Brittan  will  resolve  straiteway 
w^^  w*^  rare  arte  doth  admirably  expresse 
thinges  of  most  moment  leaving  out  the  lesse 
whose  Authors'  fame  shall  never  die  though  he 
w*"^  Speede  be  turned  to  ashes  speedilie. 

In  addition  J.  M.  shows  a  cosmopohtan  and  much  paraded 
knowledge  of  rehgious  controversialists  and  writers  on  Church 
doctrines.     He  refers  to  Stapleton,^  Sucliffe,^  Bishop  Jewell,^ 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  228  verso,  History  of  the  World. 

2  Vol.  II,  169  verso. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  119,  in  the  text. 

*  Vol.  II,  fol.  220  verso. 

6  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  30  recto  and  verso.  John  Speed  (1552  ?-1629) . 
In  1598  he  presented  "divers  maps"  to  the  queen;  in  1600  he  gave 
some  to  the  Merchant  Taylors'  Company,  of  which  he  was  a  member; 
in  1607  he  helped  Camden  with  his  Britannia,  and  in  1608-1610 
he  made  many  new  maps  of  England  and  Wales.  He  published, 
1611,  Theatre  of  the  Empire  of  Great  Britain.  His  History  of  Great 
Britain  continues  the  Theatre.  Dictionary  Nat.  Biog.,  Vol.  LIII, 
ed.  1898. 

6  Vol.  II,  fol.  3. 

^  Thomas  Stapleton  (1535-1598),  a  great  Catholic  controversialist 
and  zealot.    Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  62. 

*  Royal  chaplain  to  Elizabeth  and  James.  His  Actes  and  Monu- 
ments, 1562-1563.     Vol.  II,  fol.  230. 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  70  verso.  Apologia  pro  Ecclesia  anglicana, 
1562,  Englished,  1564. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  45 

Fox/  Durantus,^  the  Bible/  and  to  numerous  other  authors 
and  works,  both  English  and  continental,  on  the  mass, 
Church  service,  and  saints.'* 

The  question  next  arises,  Is  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
a  helter-skelter  collection  of  miscellaneous  stories,  having 
no  connection  except  the  almost  invariable  metamorphosis 
and  the  tendency  to  digression  as  regards  satire?  J.  M., 
to  quote  from  the  Prologue  again,  candidly  confessed  that 
in  "this  book"  he  "only  aymde"  "for  some  strange  thinge 
to  write  "^  and, 

even  as  a  Flemish  Gallemanfrey  made 

of  flesh,  herbes,  onyons,  both  of  roote  &  blade, 

so  shall  the  reader  find  in  the  pages  to  follow  "some  bloody 
warres,"  of  Love's  "soft  charme,"  of  "Countryes  strange," 
of  "rough  satyrs"  to  help  purge  "the  wicked  world  to  lewd- 
nes  most  enclyn'd,"  of  "a  comicke-lover,"  of  "deaths 
unkynde,"  of  government, 

of  Princes,  Lords,  of  Peisants  &  of  Clownes 
strange  murderinge  &  massacres,  &  poisons  fell,^ 

all  intermingled  to  form  Aii  I  Hade  of  Metamorphosis  or  an 
Arraignment  of  Vice.  But  he  also  attempted  to  provide 
a  frame  for  this  material;  he  did  not  plan  to  write  a  series 
of  disconnected  tales. 

J.  M.  had  read  widely.  He  knew  Chaucer,  Spenser, 
Ariosto,^  and  undoubtedly  most  of  the  contemporary  col- 
lections of  stories  so  popular  on  the  continent  and  in  Eng- 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  74  verso. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  62. 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  227. 

*  Vol.  II,  fol.  53  verso. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  .5  verso. 

*  These  quotations  are  from  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  5  ff. 

'  He  refers  to  the  story  "of  fayre  Genevra,"  Vol.  II,  fol.  142. 


46  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

land.  Spenser,  indeed,  and  The  Faerie  Queene  influenced 
him  in  his  plan.  The  prologues  to  the  cantos  of  the  great 
epic  romance,  its  intricate  background  of  minor  episodes,  and 
its  crowded  and  often  confused  canvas  clearly  affected 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  In  addition,  the  great  Ehzabeth 
is  called  Gloriana,^  London,  Troynovante,^  and  England, 
glorious  "Fayrie"  land,^  is  the  favored  playground  of  the 
sportive  gods.  Still  J.  M.  knew  too  well  his  limitations  as 
a  poet  to  attempt  to  model  a  work  to  be  read  only  once  and 
then  cast  aside  *  after  a  poem  which  was  written  to  "emu- 
late," perhaps  to  "overgo,"  Orlando  Furioso,  acclaimed  by 
the  Renaissance  as  the  heir  to  the  epic  glory  of  Homer  and 
Vergil.  Our  author  was  a  soldier,  a  man  of  the  camps,  a 
soldier-adventurer,  taking  part  in  the  sacking  of  Cadiz.^ 
He  had  in  mind  no  subtle  allegory,  no  colorful  dream  of 
chivalrous  fairy  knights.  His  plan,  however,  to  connect 
his  heterogeneous  material  was  fairly  ingenious  and  in 
harmony  with  the  tone  of  his  work. 

The  first  title-page  shows  that  he  intended  to  write  only 
twelve  books.  But  as  years  passed  his  material  grew; 
his  interests  in  a  variety  of  affairs  demanded  expression; 
his  lack  of  proportion,  indeed  of  taste,  led  him  always  deeper 
into  the  Elizabethan  quagmire  of  prolix  digression,  and, 
in  consequence,  his  original  frame  for  his  work,  always  frail, 
broke  under  the  strain.  Eventually  he  frankly  discarded 
his  plan. 

This  original  frame  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  opens  on 
Olympus.  The  pleasure-loving  gods  have  wearied  of  sopo- 
rific heavenly  joys,  and  so  they  plan  to  seek  a  new  field  in 

1  Example  of  this,  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  8. 

2  Example  of  this,  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  52  verso. 
^  An  example,  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  8. 

^  Vol.  I,  fol.  6. 

6  Vol.  II,  Books  VII,  VIII. 


'      THE  MANUSCRIPT  47 

which  to  exercise  their  prerogatives.     They  decide  to  visit 
"Fayrie,"  the  lovely  land  of  great  Gloriana.     J.  M.  tells  us: 

Olympick  Gods,  set  on  a  merry  pinne 

seke  out  a  place  themselves  to  solace  in 

they  Fayrie  chose  as  fit'st  for  recreation 

the  tyme  accordinge  for  it  was  rogation 

Rogation  weeke,  when  schoole  boyes  walke  the  bounds 

w^^  Pedagoge  &  Priest,  &  doltish  Clownes 

May  month  it  hight,  the  merry  month  of  May 

when  ech  one  w*"^  his  Love  doth  May-games  play 

then  into  Faiery  did  the  Gods  discende 

whose  pleasantnesse  w*^"^  Tempe  might  contende 

w***  Egipt  Lords  atire  they  them  disguise 

and  many  tricks,  &  many  means  devise 

howe  best  they  might  the  Faiery  Nymphs  beguile: 

Goblins  &  Elves  hving  in  that  riche  soyle.^ 

But  Mercury  proposed  to  the  complaisant  merrymakers 
that  they  should  draw  lots  for  a  king  or  a  queen  for  this 
adventure.  Cupid  is  successful,  but  the  war  god  objects 
"by  rage  &  furie  led."     He  exclaims: 

"And  thinkest  thou  Cupid,  th'  apish  God  of  Love 

shall  have  preheminence  o're  the  Gods  above 

thou  fitter  art  to  be  the  Pigmies  Kinge 

or  friskinge  Crickets,  to  sitte  still  &  singe 

in  chymny  corners:  come  let's  chuse  a  newe 

an  able  Kinge  to  rule  a  lusty  crewe 

I  am  afraid  it  ever  should  be  said 

that  we  were  subiecte  unto  a  boy-mayde." 

Mercury,  because  of  his  rash  advice,  is  consigned  to  be  poor, 
to  "consorte"  with  "yon  aple-squire,"  and  Cupid  is  de- 
clared a  fit  companion  for  "Maya's  sonne."     Hermes  is 
...  to  doe  wonders  thou  (Cupid)  to  pubhsh  it 
he  to  deceive  &  slylie  to  beguile 
and  thou  to  prate,  &  cogge  &  lye  the  while 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  7. 


48  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

had  yo*^  a  Punck  fit  to  consorte  yo"  nowe 
&  old  Menander  at  this  instant  too 
were  nowe  aUve,  oh  here  were  heavenly  worke 
the  Punck  &  Love  &  Mercury  to  perke. 
Uppon  a  stage  with  comick  cheatinge  tricks 
w^^  would  the  eyes  of  the  spectato""^  fixe 
and  eke  their  eares  unto  attention  drawe 
till  on  a  sodaine  (like  unto  a  flawe 
after  a  sylent  calme)  laughter  breakes  forth 
to  prove  his  worke  to  be  of  wondrous  worth 
certes  you  two  may  well  goe  walke  together 
it  is  greate  pitty  yo"  should  ever  sever.^ 

The  lusty  Mars,  the  impetuous  soldier,  now  calls  for  new 
lots.  The  gods,  each  hoping  to  gain  Cupid's  robbed  honor, 
consent,  for  the  poet  writes: 

A  sweete  thing  'tis,  to  swaye  th'  imperiall  mace 
that  every  one  may  stoope  &  give  him  place 
though  it  be  mixte  w*^  troubles  manifold 
greate  care  him  weares,  that  weares  a  crowne  of  gold 
the  meane  life  is  from  greife  the  most  exempt 
and  fewer  cares  doe  dwell  where  is  contempt 
where  is  not  much  to  loose  is  noe  greater  feere 
hono''  &  riches,  loade  a  man  w*^  care.^ 

Bacchus  wins  this  contest,  and  he  sends  the  two  gods, 
Mercury  and  Cupid,  who  were  "secluded  from  the  elec- 
tion, "^  through  "Faiery  Lande"  in  order 

to  give  the  Nymphs  &  Elves  to  understande 
that  Egipts  Kinge  desyred  much  to  see 
their  nymble  sports  &  fyne  agillitie 

would  they  but  daine  to  come  unto  his  tents 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  7  verso. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  8. 
'  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  8. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  49 

(His  tents  were  pitcht  neere  Isis  ^  silver  streames 
where  great  Gloriana  w*^  her  radiant  beames 
made  the  trees  fruitful!,  &  the  earth  increase 
and  rules  her  land  in  bounty,  ioye  &  peace, 
Longe  may  she  live  &  rule,  that  rules  so  well 
whose  many  vertues  all  her  subiects  tell 
&  when  from  us  she's  taken  to  the  skie 
oh  let  her  there  governe  immortalie.^ 

The  foolish  inhabitants  rush  to  the   tents  of  the  disguised 

gods; 

but  fewe  there  were  that  knewe  of  Love  the  toile 
for  Cupid  never  did  Fays  harte  beguile 
nor  tread  a  steppe  till  now  in  Faiery  lahde 
here  Gloriana  did  alone  command; 

and  the  mischievous  Cupid  boldly  practices  his  wiles  on 
both  the  gods  and  these  "Fays." 

As  Nymphs  w*"^  Shepherds  did  together  dance 
one  gave  a  sigh,  an  other  cast  a  glaunce 
&  still  they  singe  this  burden  to  their  songe 
Aye  mee  I  love,  aye  me  I  love  too  longe 
such  uncouth  passion  they  n'ere  felt  before 
they  therfore  as  mishaps  did  them  deplore 
yet  were  they  loath  to  lose  their  pleasinge  paj'ne 
in  greatest  losse  they  found  a  sweetninge  gaine.^ 

With  this  happy  and  fanciful  introduction  to  the  holiday- 
loving  gods  and  the  innocent  people  of  Fairyland,  we  are 
brought  to  the  first  stories  —  the  passion  of  Bacchus,  of 
Jove,  and  of  Apollo,  caused  by  Cupid,  for  mortal  nymphs. 

Mars'  arrogant  conduct  in  the  casting  of  the  lots  leads  to 
many  perplexing  complications.  Mercury,  consigned  to 
beggary  and  thievery,  craves  revenge,*  and  Cupid,  at  first 

1  Isis  is  the  Thames.  ^  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  9. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  8.  ■•  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  8  verso. 


50  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

the  wanton  boy,  drives  in  sport  the  gods  to  many  new  loves; 
but  later  when  Mars,  aided  by  the  other  gods,  plots  against 
the  amorous  Jove  ^  who  has  forgotten  the  duties  of  Olympus 
and  his  cherished  protege,  the  god  of  Love,  then,  Cupid  with 
purpose  and  in  order  to  defend  himself,  shoots  his  arrows 
at  all  the  deities.  Even  aged  Saturn,^  hoary  and  feeble, 
falls  victim.  Juno,  however,  escapes  these  machinations  * 
and  goes  to  seek  her  erring  spouse,  whom  she  brings  back 
to  a  desolate  Olympus.  Mars  and  his  party  make  war  on 
their  lord,^  and  for  many  days  cannons  roar,  and  both 
heaven  and  earth  are  laid  waste.  A  parhament  is  finally 
called,  and  Cupid,  much  against  the  will  of  Jove,  is  banished 
for  twelve  years. 

But  this  sentence  leads  to  further  complications.  Jupiter 
mom-ns  for  the  playful  boy.  At  his  instigation  Cupid  shoots 
only  "dull-pointed-Busbolts,"  so  that  all  passion,  both 
among  gods  and  mortals,  is  quenched  and 

to  Venus  sacrifice  none  had  devotion. 

In  spite  of  all  remedies, 

noe  man  desyred  once  to  touch  his  wife 
whom  formerly  he  lov'd  as  deerest  life. 
Then  swarmed  not  as  nowe  the  bastard  broode 
whom  every  towne  is  fainte  to  feed  w*^  foode 
people  still  dyed,  none  borne  them  to  supply.  ^ 

Finally  the  gods  implore  Jupiter  to  punish  Cupid  for  his 
insolence.  Jove  refuses  this  request.  He  censures  them 
for  their  past  obstinacy  when 

"None  pleaded  then  for  Love,  but  all  cry'd  out 
banish  that  bastard  .  .  ."  ^ 

and  speaks  at  length  concerning  their  presumptuous  con- 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  Book  III.  "  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  XII. 

»  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  VII.  ^  Vol.  II,  fol.  39  verso. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  XI.  «  Vol.  II,  fol.  44. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  51 

duct  in  questioning  his  rule.^  When  he  consents  to  recall 
Cupid,  both  mortals  and  gods  are  overjoyed,^  and  the  happy- 
earth  is  again  repeopled. 

Mars,  however,  still  bears  resentment.  Driven  by- 
Cupid,  he  again  leaves  Olympus  to  woo  a  renegade  nun. 
He  not  only  wins  this  frail  Adiana,  but  he  also  brings  to  a 
conclusion  the  principal  frame  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis. 

From  this  rivalry  of  the  gods  and  the  banishment  of 
Cupid  ^  unroll  sometimes  with  only  the  slightest  connection 
in  the  inconsequential  manner  of  a  lesser  Ariosto,  and 
again  with  a  direct  interruption,  most  of  the  tales  of  the 
first  fifteen  books  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  Jupiter 
may  visit  the  filthy  kerns  *  in  Ireland,  the  Spanish  Armada  ^ 
may  sail  for  England,  the  queen  may  visit  the  Thames  in 
which  the  city  gamins  are  noisily  playing,^  still  some  tangible 
connection  can  be  traced  to  the  gods'  visit  to  Fairyland  and 
their  contention  for  leadership. 

Often  we  have  a  frame  within  a  frame;  a  new  occasion 
will  be  presented  for  additional  tales.  Mercury,  visiting 
Jupiter  in  order  to  urge  him  to  aid  Cupid,  is  asked  to  tell 
to  the  ruler  of  Olympus  and  his  temporary  mistress  some 
stories;  ^  later,  as  the  exiled  beggar,  hungry  and  foot-sore, 
he  meets  Apollo  to  whom  he  relates  his  experiences  in  Rome, 
dilating  on  the  sins  of  the  Pope  and  his  followers.^  Cupid, 
again,  after  his  banishment,  furnishes  by  his  adventures 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  44. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  46. 

'  A  banishment  of  Cupid  was  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register  by 
James  Roberts,  May  31,  1594.  Cf.  Arber,  Vol.  II,  p.  308.  This  work 
may  have  suggested  this  plan. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  Book  III. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  XII. 
"  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  Book  V. 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  Book  III. 
8  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  X. 


52  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

among  mortals,  the  material  for  several  tales  of  cruel  land- 
lords, of  clownish  boys,  of  a  shameless  pander,^  and  of  his 
own  passion.  To  give  another  example  of  a  frame  within 
a  frame,  nine  fair  daughters  of  the  Rhine,  boasting  of  their 
superiority  to  the  Muses,  with  a  greedy  advocate  as  judge, 
enter  in  a  story-telling  contest  with  the  nine  daughters  of 
Jove,  in  this  way  giving  us  eighteen  stories.  It  is  true 
that  the  daughters  of  the  Rhine  return  to  the  Cupid  and 
Mars  theme;  but  the  Muses,  on  the  other  hand,  in  a  most 
unmuse-like  fashion,  prattle  unconventionally  of  inventions 
and  civilization,  and  also  of  witchcraft  in  Scotland,  of 
fishermen  in  Kent,  and  of  intrigues  worthy  of  a  place  in 
Italian  novelle.^  Indeed,  the  author  himself,  once  with  a 
loquacious  neighbor  ^  and  again  with  no  external  assistance,* 
breaks  into  the  narrative  and  adds  to  the  collection. 

In  the  second  volume  ^  J.  M.  practically  abandons  his 
original  frame.  He  naively  admits,  after  relating  a  tedious 
history  of  some  rivers  and  their  intriguing  offspring,  that 

this  strange  discourse  did  weary  me  to  write. 

A  friend,  however,  who  has  been  absent  for  years,  enters 
and  readily  consents  to  tell  of  his  adventures  in  Egypt 
and  elsewhere.*  The  contention  of  Cupid  and  Mars  is 
henceforth  discarded.  It  is  true  that  the  metamorphosis 
idea  persists,  and  the  heavenly  deities  still  figure  occasion- 
ally in  some  of  the  stories;  but  the  author  now  invents  new 
framework  as  the  occasion  demands,  often  with  a  surprising 
evidence  of  originality  and  contagious  humor. 

After  this  friend  had  finished  his  adventures  with  an 
attack  against  a  mushroom  "dapper  squire"  who  had  sold  his 
timber    in    order    to    support    his    extravagances,    another 

1  Vol.  II,  Books  I  and  II.  "  Vol.  II,  Part  II,  Book  XI. 

2  Vol.  I,  Books  V  and  VI.  '  Vol.  II,  fos.  64  ff. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  VII.  «  Vol.  II,  fos.  64  ff. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  53 

companion,  "that  comes  to  visite  me,"  ^  becomes  the  source 
of  several  tales  which  show  J.  M.'s  powers  at  their  best  and 
which  arc  linked  by  a  happily  executed,  if  daring  plan, 
undoubtedly  borrowed  from  the  French.^  This  visitor 
declares  that  neither  the  market  nor  the  mill,  as  most  men 
say,  are  the  favored  places  for  gossip,  but 

"...  where  one  in  travaile  fall 
There's  secrets,  newes  &  lyes,  the  divell  and  all 
more  matters  are  broacht  there  a  hundred  fold 
and  there  more  tales  &  nipping  lyes  are  told." ' 

And  so  the  reader  is  introduced  to  the  bedside  of  a  "Lady 
of  greate  note"  who  "in  travaile  fell,"  and  into  the  society  of 
a  withered  midwife  and  her  garrulous  neighbors.  It  is  an 
hilarious,  free-spoken  company,  eating  and  drinking  by 
the  bedside  of  the  mother  and  her  son,  and  the  stories  that 
are  told  make  this  an  orgy  of  bestiality,  relieved,  it  must  be 
confessed,  by  that  contagious  vitality  and  exuberant  de- 
light in  life  which  soften  so  much  that  is  offensive  in  our 
early  literature.  /.  M.  also  has  visualized  this  scene  with 
real  skill  in  characterization  and  with  an  admirable  verve. 
The  links,  especially,  which  connect  the  stories,  show  so  much 
contagious  gayety  that  the  reader  must  regret  that  our 
author  did  not  attempt  more  work  of  this  character. 

J.  M.  himself  furnishes  the  occasion  for  the  stories  fol- 
lowing the  metamorphosis  by  Venus  into  butterflies  of  the 
most  daring  of  these  gossips.  He  has  the  "colhck,"'*  and, 
in  consequence,  visits  the  famous  mineral  springs  of  England 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  72. 

^  This  satire  on  women  at  childbirth  can  be  found  in  Quinze  Joyes 
de  Manage  and  in  Middleton's  A  Chaste  Maid  in  Cheapside,  1630, 
Act.  II,  Scene  IV,  f.  In  1622  there  appeared  in  France  Les  Caquets  de 
I'Accouchee  closely  resembling  this  frame. 

'  Vol.  II,  fol.  72  verso. 

*  Vol.  II,  Book  VI. 


54  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

in  order  to  find  a  remedy.^  As  a  result  of  his  travels  he 
adds  several  tales  to  The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  An  attack 
on  an  ilhterate  clergyman  and  on  an  old  woman — and  on 
quacks  in  general  —  who  with  one  remedy  kills  many  and 
cures  very  few,  are  the  most  interesting  of  these,  because 
they  contain  many  allusions  to  contemporary  superstitions 
and  manners  which  are  of  some  interest  and  value  to  the 
student. 

When  J.  M.  has  visited  the  various  springs  and  has 
returned  to  his  home,  all  attempts  at  a  plan  are  given  up 
for  a  time.  He  frankly  states  at  the  beginning  of  Book  VII 
that  the  reader  will  leave  England  and  "survey" 

if  other  nations  nought  affourd  us  may 
of  matter  worth  the  notinge  .  .  .  ^ 

But  after  a  story  concerning  a  faithless  husband,  a  visiting 
friend,  as  an  auditor,  is  again  made  use  of  to  continue  this 
work.  J.  M.  first  tells  to  this  companion  three  stories 
exemplifying  the  abuse  of  love,  of  fighting,  and  of  gambling,^ 
and  then  he  turns  to  a  realistic  description  of  the  Cadiz 
expedition,^ 

Whilest  o''  Eliza  of  blest  memory 

did  in  this  kingdome  hold  the  soveraigntie, 

of  which  he  had  been  an  eyewitness,  one  of  the  many  gay 
young  nobles  and  reckless  spirits  who  had  flocked  to  the 
standards  of  Essex,  Howard,  Ralegh,  and  Vere.  His  friend 
is  soon  forgotten,  and  this  assault  on  the  power  of  Spain 
gives  rise,  in  turn,  to  a  new  frame,  and  to  many  more  tales, 
some  of  the  happiest  in  the  long  collection. 

Chaucer's    famous    pilgrims    undoubtedly    suggested    his 

1  Drayton's  Poly-Olbion,  1613-1622,  also  describes  these  springs. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  111. 

3  Vol.  II,  fos.  114  fif. 
*  Vol.  II,  fos.  119  flf. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  55 

new  plan;  in  fact,  /.  M.  mentions  the  Canterbury  Tales} 
The  reader  is  taken  on  board  a  ship  returning  to  Plymouth,^ 
filled  with  its  motley  crew  and  its  Spanish  plunder.  The 
Shipmaster, 

...  a  corpulent  fatte  Swadde 
a  bon-companion,  a  right  jovial  lad 
unto  the  Captaine  thus  began  to  talke 
(a  merry  Mate,  his  tongue  new  oild  did  walke)  ^ 

asking  that  each  one  should  "some  merrie  storie  tell." 
The  taciturn  Captain  consents.  Then  judges  are  appointed, 
a  prize  offered,  and  the  puritan  Parson,  who  draws  the 
shortest  lot,  is  called  on  for  the  first  story.  The  Shipmaster 
overflows  with  a  rough  but  contagious  bonhomie.  He 
enrages  the  Parson  with  a  rollicking  tale  of  a  drunken 
priest.  Parson  Darcie,  who  because  he  sometimes  would 
"fly  out  for  a  purse"*  ended  ingloriously  by  means  of  the 
hangman.  Indeed,  he  interrupts  the  Parson's  learned 
discourse  on  lots,  on  planting  colonies,  and  on  affairs  of 
state,  both  so  often  and  so  rudely  that  a  quarrel  arises  and 
peace  is  made  only  by  means  of  the  Captain.  After  some 
changes  in  the  original  plan,  plainly  shown  by  the  addition 
of  several  characters  and  the  insertion  of  many  pages,*  the 
"Surgion"  throws  down  the  gauntlet  to  the  more  respectable 
members  of  the  party  by  declaring, 

"there  is  no  woman  but  she  false  will  play."  ^ 

The  Captain  exclaims  that  is  "a  lewde  conceite,"  and  as 
a  result  of  this  divergence  of  views,  many  take  sides  and 
agree  to  relate  incidents  illustrating  their  viewpoint. 

Besides  those  previously  mentioned,  we  have  stories  by 
the    "Boteswayne,"  the    "gunners  Mate,"    a   "Voluntarie 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  130.  "  Vol.  II,  fol.  132  verso. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  129.  5  There  are  27  pages  numbered  284. 
"  Vol.  II,  fol.  129.  «  Vol.  II,  fol.  138. 


56  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

Gent,"  a  "Gent,"  the  Steward,  who  twits  and  shocks  them 
all,  the  Gunner,  the  "Masters  Mate,"  the  "Cooke,"  the 
"Apprentice  of  London"  that  ran  away  from  his  master, 
the  "Drum,"  the  "Clarke  of  the  Bande,"  the  "Purser,"  the 
"Trumpet,"  the  "Liuetenante,"  and  the  "Anciente"  who 
scarcely  comes  to  the  close  of  a  romantic  story  of  a  noble 
maiden  brought  up  by  a  forester,  recalling  in  some  of  its 
incidents  Fawnia  ^  and  her  successors,  when  he  cries: 

".  .  .  So,  Ho,  M""  I  have  'spied  lande 
the  best  deserver,  due  rewarde  commande 
that  was  y''  promise,  'fore  we  goe  ashore 
let  th'  best  deserver  have  rewarde  therfore."  ^ 

After  some  dissension,  a  judge  is  chosen, 

the  M''  drewe  the  lot,  he  cald  for  's  chayre 
one  made  of  cloth  of  gold,  most  riche,  most  fayre 
w*^*^  he  from  Cadiz  brought,  there  down  he  sate 
like  a  fat  Abot,  being  made  Pope  of  late 
a  scarlet  Spanish  gowne  he  dons  likewise 
w**^  drinking  he  made  red  his  nose  &  eyes 
who  putting  on  a  face  of  gravetie 
seemed  to  give  sentence  w*^  integritie.^ 

This  judge  gave  a  "Pistolet"  to  the  "Cooke,"  and  all  the 
company,  although  they  "were  displeased  and  began  to 
frette,"  did  likewise.  Indeed,  the  quick  return  to  England 
had  prevented  many  from  sharing  in  the  contest. 

The  author  slyly  adds  that  the  Cook,  who  had  told  of 
an  unscrupulous  youth  skilled  in  astronomy  and  medicine, 

...  hit  the  M'  in  the  bawdy  veyne 
he  therefore  thus  did  recompence  his  paine.^ 

The  reader  may  marvel  why  many  of  the  tales  did  not 
receive  recognition  if  a  "bawdy  veyne"  were  a  virtue  to 
the  Master. 

1  Greene,  Pandosto.  '  Vol.  II,  fol.  194. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  192  verso.  *  Vol.  II,  fol.  194. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  57 

J.  M.  evidently  relished  being  one  of  this  company,  and 
we  must  regret  that  he  is  not  openly  one  of  the  contestants. 
Possibly,  he  may  have  been  the  "  Voluntarie  Gent"  or  even 
the  young  gentleman  who  had  joined  the  expedition. 

The  last  three  books  ^  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  are,  as 
a  whole,  both  more  serious  in  tone  and  more  bitterly 
ironical  than  the  preceding.  There  is  Httle  attempt  at  any 
framework. 

J.  M.  commences  Book  X  with  the  words: 

Unwillingly  my  sportful!  muse  forsakes 

her  merry  theme,  &  nowe  a  crosse  course  takes,^ 

and  he  confesses  his  lack  of  "abillitie,"  that  "the  taske" 
he  undertakes  "is  too  great  for  me,"  and  that 
a  sportefuU  humor  I  much  better  love 
then  dire  events  w''^  mischeifes-broode  doth  move. 

The  author  then  tells  of  the  Roman  Catholic  plots  against 

James,  "a  glorious  Sun,"  and 

.  .  .  the  Sol  that  warmes  this  Isle 
the  Jove  that  doth  it  keepe  from  Papists  spoile 
the  Mars  that  fighteth  to  maintaine  o''  seas 
the  Mercury  whose  wit  &  wisdome  shines 
w"**  all  true  heartes,  to  him  in  love  combines 
to  speake  divinely.  Our  true  Israels  lighte 
for  whom  Jehovah  from  above  doth  fight,^ 

and  after  further  eulogy,  he  writes  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot, 

.  .  .  the  foulest  facte,  ere  acted  out  of  Hell 
w"**  to  expresse,  alas,  I  have  no  skill.'' 

.  .  .  the  most  abhorred  acte 
was  ever  dreamed  on,  much  lesse  don  in  facte 
the  Powder  Treason,  or  The  Divell  in  th'  vault 
the  Divells  worke  in  Hell,  you  well  may  call't. 

1  Vol.  II,  Books  X,  XI,  XII.  '  Vol.  II,  fol.  197  verso. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  194  verso.  "  Vol.  II,  fol.  199. 


58  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

This  is  described  with  much  historical  accuracy,  and  the 
future  punishment  of  Fawkes,  Garnet,  and  the  rest  of  "th' 
damned  crue"  is  dilated  on  at  great  length.  In  fact,  the 
author  travels  to  hell  in  order  to  learn  more  of  the  execrated 
popes  and  their  proteges.     At  the  end  of  this  book  he  writes, 

Nowe  of  the  Catholique  Church  my  leave  I  take 
for  this  whole  booke,  I've  written  for  their  sake.^ 

Throughout  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  there  are  constant 
attacks  on  the  Roman  Catholics,  and  Book  X  of  the  first 
volume  consists  mainly  of  a  picture  of  the  vices  and  profli- 
gacy of  the  "Roman  crue,"  told  by  the  exiled  Mercury  to 
Apollo.  But  J.  M.  had  reserved  his  most  bitter  ridicule 
and  virulent  abuse  for  the  instigators  of  the  Gunpowder 
Plot  and  for  the  Jesuits. 

In  the  last  two  books  of  the  manuscript  there  is  again  no 
attempt  to  connect  what  is  written  with  the  stories  preceding. 
Here  further  invectives  hurled  at  the  Papacy,  and  certain 
favorite  types,  such  as  the  usurer,  the  gull,  and  the  drunk- 
ard, appear  once  more.  The  author  is  the  speaker  and  he 
uses,  in  general,  the  tone  of  verse  satire,  English  in  atmos- 
phere and  moral  in  purpose.  He  seems,  in  these  books, 
to  prefer  some  incident  illustrating  the  folly  or  evil  he  assails. 
In  Book  XI  he  speaks  of  drunkenness,  gluttony,  and  malice. 
In  Book  XII,  after  a  long  and  tedious  list  of  kings  which 
reaches  its  climax  in  the  conventional  eulogy  of  James  I, 
the  death  of  the  young  Henry  and  the  marriage  of  Princess 
Ehza,2  events  of  importance  to  the  hated  Romanists,  call 
forth  rather  fulsome  expressions  of  sorrow  and  patriotic 
fervor.  Indeed,  the  latter  event,  attracting  curious  throngs 
from  all  England,  furnishes  the  occasion  for  an  ironical 
picture  of  some  of  those  who  were  present,  among  whom 
were 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  232  verso.  ^  j^  1612. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  59 

a  proper  tall  red  bearded  Gentleman, 

his  name  I  thinke  was  gallant  Captaine  Swan. 

a  captain  in  tyme  of  peace  is  like  a  Nun 
there  living,  where  Religion  is  undon 
sometymes  I  see  them  walk  in  Paules  in  buffe 
w**^  great  gold  lace,  all  poynted,  mary  muffe! 
much  hke  to  Panderesses  when  their  game  is  over 
our  Captaines  oft  from  Calais  come  to  Dover. 
Captaine,  onne  tyme  it  was  a  noble  name 
but  nowe  growne  base,  for  they  themselves  defame 
by  haunting  Pickthach,^  White-fryers  hot-houses," 

who  lost  his  dinner  because  "  a  pigge  came  to  the  table,"  ^ 
a  gallant  Monsieur  Roe,  who  made  all  effort  to,  ' 

...  be  apparreled  most  sumptuously 

to  weare  his  beavo^  hat  he  will  not  faile 

and  in  the  same  his  huge  great-Ostridge-tayle 

his  crjinsen  satten  dublet  on  he  puts 

in  w*^^  he  straitly  did  imprison'd  guts 

but  breeches  had  he  none  that  might  it  suit. 

an  hundred  goodly  Oakes  he  straitewayes  sold 

his  scarlet  breeches  to  lace  thick  w***  gold 

so  thicke  the  scarlet  yo"  could  scarcely  spie 

Oh  brave  breeche-case,  adorned  gorgeoushe 

the  man  in  court  yo"  knowe  is  not  regarded 

good  clothes  there  are  sildome  tymes  discarded 

let  th'  man  be  bad,  so  be  his  cloathes  be  brave 

nay  though  he  be  an  obscene  filthy  knave 

he  shall  have  entrance  &  be  much  respected 

when  vertuous  men  in  poore  clothes  are  neglected; ' 

*  Evidently  Pickt-hatch,  the  quarter  of  London  celebrated  for 
thieves  and  prostitutes  to  which  Shakspere  refers  in  Merry  Wives,  II, 
2,  19. 

2  Vol.  II,  fos.  256  ff. 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  257  verso. 


60  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

the  gorgeous  lady  who  ruined  her  husband  in  order  to  dazzle 
the  court  ;^  and  also  the  courtesan,  the  usurer,  and  several 
others.  In  these  pictures,  vigorous  and  coarsely  graphic, 
we  find  the  influence  of  the  work  of  Donne,  Hall,  Marston, 
and  the  contemporary  satirists.  The  three  last  books, 
indeed,  are  more  closely  allied  to  the  school  of  conscious 
satire.  There  is  little  attempt  at  story-telling,  but  rather 
an  effort  to  arraign  vice. 

We  see  how  in  the  course  of  the  many  years  spent  in 
composition  the  original  plan  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
suffered  alteration  and  in  time  was  frankly  discarded. 
The  author  at  first  undoubtedly  intended  to  give  to  a  not 
too  discriminating  public  a  series  of  stories  modeled  more  or 
less  freely  after  Ovid.  For  these  he  invented,  or  possibly 
borrowed,  the  frame  of  an  exiled  Cupid  taking  revenge  on 
the  gods.  When  he  tired  of  this,  or  when,  as  it  is  probable, 
his  work  had  outgrown  so  frail  a  frame,  he  planned  anew, 
with  conspicuous  success  in  two  instances,  his  background 
for  the  bedside  stories  and  those  told  on  the  return  from 
Cadiz.  But  his  many  interests,  and  also  an  unflagging 
zeal  and  amazing  facility  in  narration  tended  to  obscure 
the  main  action  of  his  work  by  complicated  and  quickly 
changing  episodes  and  long  digressions.  He  frankly  aban- 
doned both  frame  and  theme  when  either  hampered  him  in 
his  narrative  or  when  he  was  roused  by  what  he  feared  was 
sapping  the  manhood  of  his  countrymen.  As  a  result  the 
work  suffers  in  many  ways.  It  is  rambling  and  diffuse, 
but  it  assuredly  gains  from  its  very  faults  a  vigorous  and 
attractive  spontaneity. 

The  question  may  now  rise  —  and  it  would  be  most 
natural — whether  the  author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  in 
its  nearly  one  thousand  closely  written  pages  and  consider- 
ably more  than  thirty  thousand  fines  does  not  furnish  some 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  257  verso. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT  61 

interesting  and  possibly  important  information  concerning 
his  contemporaries.  It  has  already  been  stated  that  the 
chief  value  of  the  manuscript  lies  in  its  many  allusions  to 
manners  and  fashions,  to  its  pictures  of  gulls,  of  gamblers, 
of  drunkards,  and  to  social  and  economic  conditions  in 
general.  It  also  is  of  some  significance  to  the  student  of 
history;  for  the  Cadiz  adventure  is  told  by  an  eyewitness, 
and  the  Gunpowder  Plot  is  dilated  on  at  length  by  one  who 
seems  intimately  affected.  Then  it  must  always  be  kept  in 
mind  that  /.  M.  is  a  teller  of  stories  of  no  mean  abihty. 

But,  on  the  other  hand.  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  adds 
nothing  to  our  knowledge  concerning  those  giants  in  letters 
and  affairs  who  made  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  and  her  suc- 
cessor radiant.  We  have  seen  how  the  author  refers  with 
careful  accuracy  to  Stow,  Speed,  Purchas,  and  other  con- 
temporary writers  of  chronicles,  travels,  or  religious  works 
when  by  so  doing  he  may  gain  authority  and  a  reputation 
of  learning;  but  to  the  field  of  belles-lettres  he  shows  much 
of  the  characteristic  reticence  of  his  age. 

He  speaks  of  his  greatest  contemporary  in  one  careless  line, 

it  seems  'tis  true  that  W.  S.  said,^ 

and  he  undoubtedly  had  Venus  and  Adonis  in  mind,  since 
he  parallels  it  with  some  closeness  in  one  of  his  stories. - 
To  Spenser  he  gives  more  honor.     He  writes  of 

.  .  .  noble  Spenser  nowe  of  fairest  fame 
whose  glorious  workes  immortalize  his  name,' 

and,  as  we  have  seen,  he  has  borrowed  many  suggestions 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  51  verso.  Miss  Toulmin-Smith  claims  this 
refers  to  Shakspere  because  of  the  scansion  as  well  as  the  initials.  Cf. 
Shakspere  Allusion-Book,  Vol.  I,  p.  89.  Waldron  had  assigned  this  to 
Shakspere  in  a  marginal  note. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  63  flF. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  91. 


62  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

from  The  Faerie  Queene}  Chaucer  is  spoken  of  several 
times,^  once,  indeed,  in  a  contemptuous  manner  when  the 
author  classes  the  Canterbury  Tales  and  other  "fables" 
of  "fayned  miracles"  with  the  Golden  Legends,  Vitas  Pa- 
trium,  Gesta  Romanorum,  all  "Lyes  made  to  blynde  the 
simple  ignorant."^     He  makes  happy  mention  of 

.  .  .  kynde  Kit  Marlowe,  if  death  not  prevent-him, 
shall  write  her  story,  love  such  art  hath  lent-him,* 

and  a  certain  flower, 

Starlight,  cald  for  noble  Sidney's  sake 

Sidney  the  flower  of  matchlesse  poesie 

who  doubts  thereof  to  mende  it  let  him  try 

the  Poets  glory  &  the  soldiers  pride 

who  with  blest  soules  in  heaven  doth  no  we  abide,  ^ 

calls  forth  a  eulogy  of  the  author  of  Arcadia.  Indeed,  J.  M. 
shows  the  influence  of  Sidney  in  many  ways.  He  places 
one  of  his  stories  in  Arcadia,^  and  in  a  list  of  friends  he 
mentions  conspicuously  Pyrocles  and  Musidorus.  Another 
time,  in  speaking  of  poets,  he  enumerates  several  of  his 
predecessors  and  contemporaries.  Unfortunately,  he  pos- 
sessed neither  the  ability  nor  the  fineness  of  taste  of  Drayton, 
otherwise  he  might  have  given  the  reader  another  Epistle 
to  Reynolds. ''    He  writes: 

Surrey  &  Sidney,  hono'  of  o'  age 

were  both  of  them  of  noble  parentage 

yet  not  their  hono""  makes  them  Uve  so  longe 

as  doth  their  poems  &  learned  pleasinge  songe 

1  Cf.  Chap.  I,  pp.  39  ff. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  62  verso,  90  verso;  Vol.  II,  fos.  130,  230  verso. 
8  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  62  verso. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  39  verso,  J.  M.  is  speaking  of  Hero. 

5  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  57  verso. 

«  Vol.  II,  Book  II. 

^  Drayton,  Epistle  to  Henry  Reynolds,  Esquire. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT  63 

before  their  time  S""  Jeffr'y  Chaucer  he 
the  first  fife  giver  to  o''  poesie 
Phaer  &  Twyne,  Harvy,  Gaskoyne,  Goldinge 
Lydgate,  Skelton,  Grange,  Googe  &  Fleminge 
Warner  &  Watson,  France,  Churchyarde,  Whetston 
Monday,  Lilly,  Britton,  Danyell,  Draiton 
Chapman  &  Jonson,  Withers  auncient  Tusser 
w[i]th  the  divine  soule-pleasinge  Silvester 
and  noble  Spencer  .  .  . 

He  continues  by  saying  that  these  help 

,  .  .  the  world  t'  adorne 

w[i]thout  the  w[hi]ch,  men  live  like  folk  forlorne 

though  these  doe  labour  much  their  curious  lynes 

w[hi]ch  art  unto  invention  well  combines 

and  take  much  paines  their  Readers  to  dehghte.^ 

In  spite  of  the  author's  garruHty  and  the  years  spent  in 
the  composition  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  these  few 
scattered  lines  give  the  only  mention  of  the  outstanding 
literary  figures  of  his  time.  This  indifference,  as  it  seems 
to  the  reader,  would  be  inexplicable  if  it  were  not  so  typical 
of  the  period.  J.  M.'s  chief  concern  is  to  dazzle  his  audience 
with  his  wealth  of  unusual  knowledge,  with  his  quaint 
folklore  and  worldly  wisdom.  He  sees  no  reason  why  there 
should  be  an  interest  in  the  men  of  his  day. 

J.  M.'s  references  to  the  theater  are  even  more  scanty 
and  unsatisfactory  than  these  tributes  to  his  predecessors 
and  contemporaries.  In  the  Prologue,  he  speaks  of  the 
"publique  stage,"  of  those  who  "fawne,  flatter  &  dissemble," 
and  resemble  most  "theatrians."^  A  little  later  in  a  shrewd 
bit  of  observation  he  writes: 

Uppon  a  stage  w*^  comick  cheating  tricks 
w*'^  would  the  eyes  of  the  spectato""^  fixe 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  90  verso  ff.  '-  Vol.  I,  fol.  5  verso. 


64  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

and  eke  their  eares  unto  attention  drawe 
tell  on  a  sodaine  (like  unto  a  flawe 
after  a  sylent  calme)  laughter  breakes  forth 
to  prove  liis  worke  to  be  of  wondrous  worth. ^ 

Again  we  hear  of  a  gull  who  mispronounces  his  words  and 
squanders  his  money  at  the  "Curtaine,"  of  a  spendthrift 
gambler  who 

...  at  the  Playhouse  he  tooke  cheifest  roomes 
and  then  did  take  on  him  the  gentleman,^ 

and  of  the  "painted  Players"  who  had  not  lived  "twenty 
yeare"  and  in  spite  of  their  youth  showed  consummate 
abiUty  in  their  profession.  These  references  are  brief; 
they  consist  usually  of  only  a  few  hastily  written  verses, 
but  they  at  least  make  clear  that  the  author  was  familiar 
with  the  life  of  London  and  had  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  stage. 

After  this  survey  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  it  can  be 
said  briefly  in  conclusion  that  this  manuscript  was  written 
between  the  years  1600-1615;  that  it  consists  of  a  hetero- 
genous collection  of  stories,  written  to  appeal  to  the  popular 
fancy,  stories,  however,  interspersed  with  much  satire  and 
frequent  digressions  concerning  subjects  of  interest  to  the 
author;  that  the  author  provided  an  ingenious,  if  fanciful, 
framework  for  his  material  which  he  eventually  discarded, 
inventing  new  frames  as  the  occasion  demanded;  and  that 
the  value  of  the  work  hes  in  its  popular  appeal,  in  its  genuine 
power  in  narration,  and  in  its  allusions  to  contemporary 
fashions  and  life. 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  7  verso.  «  Vol.  II,  fol.  117. 


CHAPTER  II 
CRITICAL   HISTORY  OF  THE   MANUSCRIPT 

The  diffuseness  and  great  length  of  The  Newe  Metamor- 
phosis undoubtedly  deterred  from  closer  scrutiny  those 
students  of  English  literature  whose  attention  had  been 
attracted  to  it.  The  critical  history  of  the  manuscript  is 
brief;  it  is  of  importance,  however,  when  the  question  of 
authorship  is  considered,  for  various  conjectures  have  been 
made  by  those  who  have  examined  this  work,  concerning 
the  identity  of  the  author. 

Francis  Godolphin  Waldron,^  writer,  actor,  manager  of 
theaters,  and  antiquarian,  had  this  manuscript  -  in  his 
possession.  Possibly  he  intended  to  edit  some  parts  of  it. 
He  has  made  frequent  marginal  notes  in  pencil,  some  of 
which  are  of  interest,  because  of  his  knowledge  of  sixteenth- 
century  manuscripts.  Indeed,  I  can  safely  say  that  these 
notes  and  not  the  manuscript  furnish  the  grounds  for  many 
of  the  statements  of  later  scholars.  Waldron  has  written 
at  the  side  of  J.  M.,  gent.:  "Que?^  — John  Marston,  Jervase 
Markham,  James  Martin,  John  Mason,"  evidently  with  the 
purpose  of  ascertaining  the  author. 

Joseph  Haslewood,^  an  insatiable  collector  of  fugitive 
tracts  and  one  of  the  founders  and  the  early  historian  of  the 

^  1744-1818.  Cf.  Dictionary  Nat.  Biog.  He  was  both  editor  and 
bookseller.  He  issued  in  1792  The  Literary  Museum,  or  Ancient  and 
Modern  Repository,  a  volume  of  some  antiquarian  importance,  and  the 
Shakspearean  Miscellany  (London  1802),  a  collection  of  scarce  tracts. 

»  His  initials,  F.  W.  G.,  are  found  in  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  11;  Vol.  II, 
fol.  234. 

3  Page  1,  Book  I. 

*  1769-1833. 

65 


66  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Roxburghe  Club,  follows  Waldron  in  an  interest  in  The  Newe 
Metamorphosis.  In  his  edition  of  Barnahee's  Journal,^ 
he  established,  to  his  satisfaction,  the  authorship.  He 
quotes  some  lines  from  the  manuscript  describing  Giggles- 
wick  Spring  in  Yorkshire,^  and  states  dogmatically  that  the 
author  is  John  Marston.^  And  John  Marston,  the  J.  M. 
of  the  greatest  prominence  and  interest  at  the  time  the 
manuscript  was  written,  overshadowed  for  the  remaining 
years  of  the  century  all  other  claimants. 

The  authorities  of  the  British  Museum  purchased  the 
manuscript  in  1844  from  Payne  and  Fosse.*  In  their  Sale 
Catalogue  for  1843  under  Manuscripts  is  the  following  de- 
scription: "No:  230.  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  or  A 
Feaste  of  Fancie,  or  Poeticall  Legendes,  written  by  J.  M.  gent. 
in  3  vol.  Very  neatly  written,  in  the  original  vellum  bind- 
ing.    £15.  15s.  4to. 

"These  volumes  formerly  belonged  to  Waldron,  who  has 
made  many  marginal  notes.  He  conjectures  the  author's 
name  to  be  either  John  Marston,  Gervase  Markham,  or 
John  Mason,  but  the  author  himself  says. 

My  name  is  French,  to  tell  you  in  a  word. 

Yet  came  not  in  with  conquering  William's  sword. 

"It  is  doubtless  the  original  autograph  of  a  very  curious 

1  First  vol.,  1817-1818;  2d  vol.,  1820. 

2  Vol.  II,  folio  95  verso. 

Yorke-shyre.     "At  Gigaleswick,  there  many  springes  doe  rise 
that  ebb  &  flowe  in  strange  &  wondrous  wise 
when  'tis  at  highest,  'tis  nyne  ynches  deepe 
at  ebbe  it  doth  but  one  ynche  water  keepe 
it  ebbes  &  flowes,  ech  quarter  of  an  houre." 

3  Lowndes  in  his  Bibliographer's  Manual  of  English  Literature  also 
ascribes  the  poem  as  doubtful  to  Marston.    He  cites  Haslewood. 

^  Vol.  I,  No.  14,824,  has  on  the  flyleaf,  "Purchased  of  Payne  and 
Foss,  1844.     (3  vols.)." 


CRITICAL   HISTORY  OF   THE    MANUSCRIPT  67 

poem.  The  title  page  is  dated  1600;  but  a  passage  in  Vol.  I, 
p.  215,  shows  that  that  part  was  not  written  until  after  the 
death  of  Prince  Henry  in  1612." 

Mr.  J.  O.  HalUwell-PhilUpps,  while  he  was  editing  the 
works  of  Marston,  was  the  next  to  mention  this  "long, 
rambhng  poem."  He  doubts  that  it  is  Marston's,  although 
"parts  of  it  resemble  in  some  degree  his  style."  ^  The 
statement  that  the  author's  name  is  French,  Mr.  Halliwell- 
Phillipps  declares,  is  a  "condition  inapphcable  to  that  of 
Marston."  ^ 

The  Reverend  Alexander  B.  Grosart '  in  his  Ufe  of  Marston 
wonders  if  the  poet  had  a  prior  love  in  "his  earUer  and  past 
days."  Because  of  the  "dainty  and  gracious  verse-address 
'To  his  Mistress'"  in  The  Metamorphosis  of  Pigmalion's 
Image,  and  also  because  of  the  references  to  her  in  the  poem 
itself,*  he  says  that  "if  other  things  were  equal,  I  should  have 

1  Works  of  John  Marston,  1856,  3  vols.,  edited  by  J.  O.  Halliwell, 
Vol.  I,  p.  xix. 

*  Halliwell-Phillipps,  in  -his  Life  of  Shakespere,  1848,  p.  148,  note, 
quotes  a  few  lines  from  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  Vol.  II,  fol.  46,  con- 
cerning boy  players.  This  passage  had  been  clearly  marked  by  Wal- 
dron. 

"But  howesoer  men  may  a  while  dissemble 
their  spightfuU  stomacks,  they  therein  resemble 
but  painted  Players,  trembling  on  the  stage 
w^^  beard  &  perywigge  made  fit  for  age 
who  have  not  scarcely  liv'd  out  twenty  yeare 
as  they  I  say  doe  loade  w*^  age  appeare 
and  yet  are  boyes  when  those  are  t'ane  away." 
It  is  interesting  to  compare  these  lines  with  the  epitaph  which  Ben 
Jonson  wrote  at  the  death  of  Salathiel  Pavy,  a  child  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's chapel,  who  although  he  died  at  the  age  of  thirteen  "yet  three 
filled  zodiacs  had  he  been  the  stage's  jewel." 

'  The  Poems  of  John  Marston  (1598-1601),  edited  by  Rev.  Alexander 
B.  Grosart,  1879,  in  Occasional  Issues,  Vol.  XI,  p.  xxv,  note. 

*  The  Metamorphosis  of  Pigmalions  Image,  pp.  7,  14. 


68  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

supposed  the  MS.  poem  in  the  British  Museum,  entitled 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  or  a  Feaste  of  Fancie,  and  An 
Iliad  of  Metamorphosis  or  the  Arraignment  of  Vice,  written 
by  J.  M.  gent.,  to  be  the  production  of  Marston  in  fulfill- 
ment of  his  semi-promise  'to  his  Mistress.'  But  there  are 
difficulties  external  and  internal  in  assigning  these  MSS. 
to  him."  But  Mr.  Grosart  does  not  make  clear  what  these 
difficulties  are. 

Mr.  Bullen  ^  was  the  next  to  mention  this  manuscript. 
He  confesses  that  he  has  only  "a  superficial  acquaintance 
with  this  poem,"  pleading  its  great  length  as  his  excuse. 
Like  Mr.  HalHwell-Phinipps,  he  declares  that  Marston's 
name  is  not  "French,"  and  further  he  states  it  is  a  "good  old 
Shropshire  name."  He  appreciates  the  importance  of  the 
poem,  saying  it  is  a  "fine  field  for  an  editor;  virgin  soil, 
I  warrant." 

Miss  Lucy  Toulmin-Smith,  an  earnest  scholar,  was  the 
last  who  examined  the  poem.  She  states  that  it  is  full  of 
allusion  "to  the  passing  history  and  manners  of  those  days" 
(Shakspere's).^    She  gives  some  of  the  introductory  argu- 

1  The  Works  of  John  Marston,  A.  H.  Bullen,  3  vols,  1887.  Cf .  Vol.  I, 
pp.  liv-lvi. 

2  Shakspere  Allusion-Book,  Vol.  I,  p.  89;  Vol.  II,  pp.  480-488.  Miss 
L.  Toulmin-Smith,  in  claiming  that  certain  lines  refer  to  Shakspere, 
has  followed  a  note  made  by  Waldron. 

"who  hath  a  lo\'inge  wife  &  loves  her  not 
he  is  no  better  then  a  witlesse  sotte 
let  such  have  wives  to  recompense  their  merite 
even  Menelaus  forked  face  inherite. 
Is  love  in  wives  good,  not  in  husbands  too 
why  doe  men  sweare  they  love  then,  when  they  wooe? 
it  seems  'tis  true  that  W.  S.  said 
when  once  he  heard  one  courting  of  a  Mayde 
Believe  not  thou  Mens  fayned  flatteryes. 
Lovers  will  tell  a  bushell-full  of  Lyes." 
Cf.  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  51  verso. 


CRITICAL   HISTORY  OF  THE  MANUSCRIPT  69 

ments  of  the  various  books,  makes  hasty  mention  of  one  or 
two  of  the  tales,  and  decides  that  it  may  be  doubted  that 
either  Marston  or  Markham  could  be  the  author.  Her 
reasons  for  this  statement  are  few  and  not  conclusive. 
As  both  Marston  and  Markham  had  written  before  1600, 
Miss  Toulmin-Smith  claims  that  neither  of  them  would 
speak  of  his  "infante  Muse," ^  and  that  Markham  "of  whom 
it  is  said  'his  thefts  were  innumerable'  is  surely  excluded  by 
the  declaration,  — 

'  to  filchinge  lynes  I  am  a  deadly  foe.'  " 

Miss  Toulmin-Smith  closes  the  list  of  commentators  on 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  The  author  has  remained  un- 
known. In  the  following  chapter  I  shall  try  to  point  out 
those  passages  in  the  manuscript  in  which  J.  M.  is  auto- 
biographical or  in.  which  he  clearly  shows  his  tastes  and 
characteristics.  In  this  way  the  identity  of  J .  M.  gent 
may  be  established. 

1  Vol.  I,  fol.  5,  Prologue. 

"Myne  infante  Muse,  longe  studieng  what  to  wTight 
at  first  resolv'd  some  bloody  warres  t'endighte." 


CHAPTER  III 
J.   M.   GENT 

In  a  manuscript  of  the  great  length  of  The  Newe  Meta- 
morphosis, covering  in  time  of  composition  so  many  years, 
it  would  seem  that  the  most  self-effacing  of  authors,  even 
in  a  period  in  which  authorship  was  not  highly  valued, 
would  unmistakably  betray  his  identity.  This  statement 
would  seem  especially  true  of  a  work  of  the  rambling  nature 
of  the  manuscript  under  consideration.  But  J.  M.  is  not 
vainglorious;  he  labors  under  no  delusion  that  he  has 
produced  something  of  exceptional  merit.  In  his  Prologue, 
when  he  writes  that 

bookes  of  this  nature  being  once  perused 
are  then  cast  by,^ 

he  makes  evident  of  how  sHght  value  he  holds  the  pages  to 
follow.  He  often  complains  with  apparent  sincerity  that 
he  has  "noe  Poets  pleasing  smoth-fyl'd  veyne,"^  that  this 
"taske  is  too  greate  for  me,"^  and  that  his  "arte"  is  "both 
rough  &  rude."^  On  the  other  hand,  his  narration  of  the 
"Powder  Treason,"  he  writes, 

.  .  .  shall  endure 
then  stone  or  brasse  of  that  I  am  full  sure 
so  longe  as  this  fayre  He  shall  traded  be 
these  lines  shall  last  even  to  eternitie.^ 

The  cause  for  this  fame,  however,  arises  not  from  the  excel- 
lencies of  his  work,  but  from  the  abhorrence  and  terror 
occasioned  by  this   conspiracy  among  his   contemporaries 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  6.  ^  Vol.  II,  fol.  194  verso. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  6.  *  Vol.  II,  fol.  199  verso. 

s  Vol.  II,  fol.  199  verso. 
70 


J.   M.   GENT  71 

and  their  descendants;  and,  further,  the  author  tells  "a 
story  not  of  fiction  no  we,"  having  "put  on  th'  Historians 
graver  gowne." 

This  apparent  modesty,  especially  in  the  author's  time, 
is  often  conventional  and  feigned;  but  J.  M.'s  many  pro- 
testations of  lack  of  merit,  culminating  at  the  end  of  the 
work  in  the  assertion, 

Some  more  accurate  vdW  shortly  tread  the  paths 
My  rougher  Muse  already  beaten  hath 
my  leave  I  here  of  Poetrie  doe  take,^ 

smacks  more  of  honesty  than  the  elaborate  "Obhvioni 
Sacrum"  of  many  of  his  contemporaries. 

But  the  author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  had  Uttle 
intention  of  remaining  anonymous.  Whatever  fame  or 
recompense  should  accrue  from  his  work,  he  stood  prepared 
to  claim.  His  title-page  says  Written  by  J.  M.  gent,  and  a 
few  pages  later  below  The  Epistle  dedicatorie,  having  no 
connection  with  what  has  preceded  or  with  what  follows, 
and  evidently  jotted  down  as  an  afterthought  or  because 
of  some  transient  impulse,  comes  the  couplet  which  has 
caused  so  much  confusion  to  the  few  who  have  inspected 
the  manuscript. 

My  name  is  Frenche  to  tell  you  in  a  worde 

but  came  not  in  w**^  conqueringe  Williams  sworde. 

And  undoubtedly  his  curious  readers,  if  the  poem  had  been 
given  to  the  public,  would  have  had  little  difficulty  in  rec- 
ognizing who  had  presented  to  the  world  this  "Feast  of 
Fancie"  and  "Arraignment  of  Vice."  For  even  in  a  day 
when  authorship  was  none  too  rare,  and  greedy  pubhshers 
were  tempting  the  pleasure-bent  Elizabethan  with  a  fare 
not  always  nice,  if  of  infinite  and  highly  spiced  variety, 
a  J.  M.  gent,  whose  name  was  "Frenche,"  capable  of  writing 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  268. 


72  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

a  work  of  such  amazing  length,  which  shows  the  author  a 
man  of  wide  reading  and  of  extended  travel,  a  linguist  and 
a  keen  observer  of  his  fellow  men,  would  have  been  readily- 
known.     He  did  not  shun  recognition. 

But  J.  M.,  even  in  the  course  of  his  stories,  frequently 
takes  us  into  his  confidence;  he  tells  the  reader  an  inter- 
esting and  illuminating  bit  of  personal  history.  Again, 
he  shows  a  penchant,  at  times  a  passion,  often  wearisome  and 
frequently  incongruous,  for  labored  and  prosaic  explanations, 
for  certain  pursuits  and  avocations,  and  for  homely  maxims; 
indeed,  in  many  significant  ways  he  aids  unconsciously 
in  his  identification.  I  shall  point  out  the  most  character- 
istic of  these. 

J.  M.  gent,  informs  us  that  he  has  been  a  soldier,  serving 
in  various  campaigns  and  in  several  lands  with  the  English 
forces.  Indeed,  he  is  most  reaUstic  in  his  pictures  of  the 
swaggering  man  of  arms,^  of  the  martial  wooer,  and  of  the 
captain  on  leave  in  the  London  inns.  In  one  of  his  auto- 
biographical digressions  ^  he  makes  evident  his  own  impul- 
sive ardor  and  his  ready  acceptance  of  the  use  of  arms  for 
redress,  in  his  challenge  to  a  traducer  to  fight  a  duel  on  the 
sands  of  Calais.  These  references  to  the  profession  of  arms 
are  constantly  recurring.  They  are  not  the  conventional 
borrowings  from  Itahan  novelle  and  other  popular  sources, 
found  so  often  in  the  contemporary  drama  and  hterature, 
but  they  are  portraits  and  incidents  pictured  by  one  who  has 
served  in  camps. 

J.  M.  writes  in  one  place  that 

Yo**  Martialists  turne  wanton  oftentymes 
leaving  the  warres  you  study  wanton  rymes 
and  turne  ranks  Poets,  .  .  .  ^ 

1  Examples  of  his  reference  to  soldiers  and  martial  exploits   are 
Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  42,  112;   128;  Vol.  II,  fol.  49. 

2  Cf.  Chap.  I,  p.  6.  3  Vol.  II,  fol.  49. 


J.   M.   GENT  73 

and  that  he,  a  soldier,  has  written  these  "  rough  hewen  lynes  "  ^ 
of  the  manuscript,  because  he  has  been  inspired  with  love. 
Again,  in  his  own  narration  of  the  Cadiz  expedition, 

whilst  o''  Eliza  of  blest  memory 

did  in  this  kingdome  hold  the  soveraigntie,^ 

there  is  even  more  positive  and  reliable  confirmation  of  the 
author  having  followed  the  profession  of  arms.  After 
remarking, 

rie  tell  the  what  I  in  my  travaille  sawe,' 

he  embarks  on  a  vigorous  description  in  the  first  person  of 
that  famous  attempt  to  cripple  Spain,  when  not  only  "Essex 
and  Howard  both  Liuetenants  were,"  but  also  Ralegh, 
the  fighter  Vere,  and  a  galaxy  of  Ehzabethan  soldiers,  cour- 
tiers, and  adventurers  formed  a  company  distinguished  in 
its  brilliancy  and  bitter  in  its  rivalries.  /.  M.  not  only 
tells  of  the  number  of  ships  saihng  from  Plymouth,  "the 
first  of  June,"  of  the  "fower  &  twenty  saile"  brought  by 
"th'  United  States,"  the  ally  of  England  for  many  years, 
of  the  bitter  fight  in  the  treacherous  harbor  of  Cadiz;  but 
he  also  describes  how  Essex  with  a  small  force  lands  "under 
the  Blockhouse,"  and  he  finally  quotes  his  "welcome  saying" 
to  the  soldiers,  using  the  first  person: 

The  spoile  &  sacking  nowe  of  Cadiz  towne 
(whose  haughty  stomacks  are  aheady  downe) 
let  be  the  Captaines  meede,  the  Soldiers  pay 
for  that  y'  have  bravelj'-  done  like  men  tliis  day 
except  alone  those  clothes  the  Spaniards  weare 
w°^  to  lay  hold  on  see  yo"  doe  forbeare. 
Nowe  swarme  the  English  &  the  Duch  Ukewise 
into  the  houses,  (even  as  thicke  as  flyes 
in  somers  even  after  a  raynie  storme 
forshewing  still  the  weather  wilbe  warme) 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  13  verso.     ^  Vol.  II,  fol.  119.      '  Vol.  II,  fol.  118  verso. 


74  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Then  Gold  &  silver  did  we  pill  &  sacke 
loaden  w**^  treasure  cast  it  on  o''  backe 
we  ran  abourd  &  straite  returd  againe 
in  house  no  roome  was  by  us  searcht  in  vaine 
were  th'  Owners  by,  we  askt  not  for  the  keyes 
but  all  flewe  open  as  us  best  did  please 
doors,  lids  of  chists,  cupbourds  &  cabbinets 
the  Spaniards  freely  paid  us  all  their  debts 

here  found  we  Bullion,  there  Rials  of  eighte 
here  w*^  gold  Ducats  we  o''  pockets  freighte.^ 

The  author,  also  an  eyewitness,  tells  of  the  burning  of^a 
large  part  of  the  Spanish  fleet  by  its  admiral,  Medina,  in 
order  to  save  the  ships  from  falling  into  the  conqueror's 
hands : 

the  Duke  of  Medina,  he  did  then  comand 

that  they  the  whole  fleete  then  should  sacrifice 

to  angrie  Vulcan,  I  sawe't  iv^^  myne  eyes, 

then  the  thicke  clouds  of  stincking  foggie  smoake 

did  many  a  Spaniard  on  the  hatches  choake 

howe  the  base  slaves  Uke  paddocks  flewe  in  th'  aire 

when  th'  fyre  &  powder  kist  (oh  loving  payre),  ^ 

He  also  relates  how 

in  th'  Bishops  Palace  &  the  Nunarie 

some  goods  were  found :  bookes  in  the  Library 

were  valued  at  full  out  a  thousand  markes 

w*^**  we  brought  home  for  o''  learnd  EngUsh  Clarkes.  ^ 

And  later  we  hear  of  how 

Faro  we  tooke  &  Lotha  burnt  w*^  fyre,  * 

and  of  the  homeward  voyage  in  triumph  to  England. 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  119  £f.  3  Vol.  II,  fol.  122  verso. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  121  verso.  *  Vol.  II,  fol.  128. 


J.   M.   GENT  75 

The  author's  pride  in  the  Enghsh  soldier  and  his  ardent 
patriotism  shine  forth  in  the  words  he  makes  Medina,  the 
Spanish  leader,  speak  in  spite  of  his  defeat.     He  exclaims: 

They  beate  us  once  (quoth  he)  on  th'  English  coast 

nowe  on  o""  owne  they  have  us  sore  rib-roast 

let  never  Spaine  w*^  England  medle  more 

for  if  we  doe,  't  will  make  o""  Master  poore 

I'le  rather  goe  to  warre  against  the  Turck 

&  w*^  lesse  danger  thinke  to  make  fayre  work. 

w*^  English  Marsis  ^  I  no  more  will  deale 

who  in  most  neede  their  valo''  not  conceale 

but  by  the  Kinges  beard  he's  a  noble  foe 

that  ransomeless  did  let  so  many  goe 

they  are  indeede  true  Noble  spirits  sure 

since  where  they  conquered  th'  are  so  honest  pure 

that  noe  one  rape  was  by  them  here  comitted  ^ 

nor  noe  foule  fault  for  w'^^  they  can  be  twitted 

an  honorable  friende  he  sure  would  prove 

that  being  a  foe  expresseth  so  his  love 

I  cannot  thinke  but  vertue  is  the  cause 

they  deale  so  justly,  not  restrained  by  lawes 

for  Victors  thus  to  curbe  the  rage  of  lust 

from  very  Justice  needes  p[]re]]ceede  it  must 

the  English  Armie's  like  a  Comon  weale 
where  w*^  uprightnes  every  man  doth  deale.' 

And  so  from  the  preceding  excerpts  /.  M.  shows  that  not 
only  is  he  a  gentleman  with  a  French  name,  but  also  a 
soldier,  fond  of  the  profession  of  arms,  rejoicing  in  feats  of 

^  Probably  derived  from  Mars  and  used  because  of  the  valor  of  the 
English. 

'  Ralegh  in  an  undated  letter  writes  that  the  English  "spared  all" 
at  Cadiz,  but  that  the  "  Flemmings "  were  cruel  and  hard.  Cf.  Steb- 
bings'  Life  of  Ralegh. 

»  Vol.  II,  fol.  123. 


76  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

valor,  exulting  in  the  courage  of  his  countrymen,  and  even 
reveling  in  the  sacking  and  pillaging  of  the  vanquished.^ 

But  Spain  was  not  the  only  land  J.  M.  had  visited  as  a 
soldier.  The  Newe  Metamoryhosis  abounds  with  references 
to  Ireland  and  especially  to  Connaught;  references  which 
show  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  country  and  a  deep 
interest  in  its  social  problems.  We  not  only  read  of  the 
bawd  following  the  camp  in  Ireland,^  of  the  numerous  plots 
instigated  there  by  the  Romanists  to  undermine  Elizabeth's 
power,^  of  the  crafty  Jesuits  who,  he  prays, 

.  .  .  were  all  to  Ireland  confyned,* 

of  Irish  history  with  its  legendary  five  kings  and  their 
realms,  of  "that  dangerous  narrow  maine"^  and  "roughness 
of  the  sea,"  with  its  "rocks  and  shelves,"''  separating  Eng- 
land and  Ireland,  of  the  witches  frequenting  its  "moory" 
lakes,^  but  we  are  also  told  of  the  rude  Irish  kerns, 

fraught  w*'^  all  vice,  repleate  w*^  villanye 
they  still  rebell  &  that  most  trecherously 
like  brutish  Indians,  these  wylde  Irish  live 
their  quiet  neighboures  they  dehght  to  greive 
cruell  &  bloody,  barbarous  &  rude 
dire  vengeance  at  the  heles  hath  them  pursude 
they  are  the  salvagest  of  all  the  nation 
amongst  them  once  /  made  my  ■pe[rf\grination} 

1  Sir  Robert  Naunton  in  his  Fragmentia  Regalia,  Arber's  Garner, 
Vol.  VII,  p.  89,  says  that  the  men  had  "great  greediness  of  spoil." 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  107  verso.  ^  Vol.  II,  fos.  35  ff. 
*  Vol.  II,  fol.  222. 

5  Vol.  II,  fol.  107  verso. 

6  Vol.  II,  fol.  136  verso. 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  76  verso. 

8  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  21  verso. 

Spenser  in  A  View  of  the  Present  State  of  Ireland  has  Irenseus  say: 
the  "  kearns  "  are  thieves,  murderers,  swearers,  who  are  wild,  cruel 
and  licentious.    Cf.  Spenser's  Works,  Globe  edition,  p.  640. 


J.   M.   GENT  77 

He  writes  again : 

These  Kernes  were  salvage  people,  wylde  &  rude 

they  best  esteemed,  that  most  their  hands  imbrueed 

in  blood  of  others;  they  no  lawe  obeyd 

nor  were  of  any  punishment  afraide 

what  any  lusted,  that  he  held  for  lawe 

others  intents,  they  not  regarde  a  strawe 

all  kynde  of  synnes  they  dayly  practiz'd  there 

villaines  to  them  resorted  farre  &  neare 

they  multiplyed  for  their  immunitye 

the  lewdest  persons  love  impunitye 

that  dev'iUsh  vice  of  Luste  was  comon  there 
in  open  streetes  to  acte  it  none  do  feare 
sinnes  most  unnaturall  &  horible  to  tell 
that  had  beginnings  from  the  Prince  of  Hell 
man  there  w*^  man,  nay  worser,  man  w*^^  beasts 
thus  they  obeyd  God  Plutos  blacke  beheasts.^ 

And  later  he  tells  the  reader  the  men  from  Connaught  with 
their  "shagged  haire"^  are  "more  salvage"^  than  men  of 
other  lands,  and  that 

The  Irelanders,  are  salvage  ignorant 

brutish  &  cruell  every  man  will  grant 

in  contracts  fraudelent,  to  theft  inclynde 

what  e're  they  say,  yo"  nere  shall  knowe  their  mynde 

to  superstition  very  much  addicted 

therefore  w**^  war  &  strange  disease  afflicted.* 

But  it  is  Connaught  that  is  conspicuously  and  intimately 
mentioned  by  J.  M.  Two  of  the  stories  of  The  Newe  Meta- 
morphosis  take   place   here,^   Erno   lake,   near  Gal  way,   is 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  20.  ^  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  35  verso. 

«  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  35.  "  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  58  ff. 

'  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  25  ff.,  Apollo  carries  his  mistress  to  Connaught; 
Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  34  verso  flf.,  the  king  of  Connaught  weds  Chryses, 
a^Grecian  maiden. 


78  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

twice  spoken  of/  and  the  kerns,  among  whom  the  author 
once  "made  my  pe[ri]grination,"  ^  are  of  Connaught. 
And  though  these  people  are  both  bestial  and  treacherous, 
Apollo  tells  Clavina,  whom  he  carries  from  England,  that 
in  "the  kingdome  of  Connaughta" 

"...  No  hissinge  serpent  doth  'bide 
noe  toade,  nor  spider,  adder,  nor  yet  snake 
noe  stinginge  venom'd  thinge  may  there  p[er]take 
the  sweetes  &  pleasures  of  that  happie  soyle 
there  they  doe  live  \v[i]thout  or  care  or  toyle 
they  neither  plant,  nor  sowe,  nor  till  the  ground 
nor  w**^  a  hedge  their  owne  encompasse  rounde 
all  thinges  are  common,  there  they  nothing  wante 
they  feele  no  penurie  or  pynchinge  scante."  ^ 

This  Utopian  picture  of  the  land  of  the  rude  kerns  scarcely 
is  in  keeping  with  what  the  author  has  spoken  at  other 
times  of  Ireland  and  its  inhabitants.  But  at  heart  he  loves 
this  country.     Like  his 

.  .  .  noble  Spencer  nowe  of  fairest  fame,^ 

the  beautiful  island  beckons  to  him  in  spite  of  its  constant 
murmurings  of  discontent  and  active  rebellion,  and  he  even 
had  planned  to  make  his  permanent  home  in  "that  riche 
lande." 

With  much  playful  fancy  he  tells  us  of  "Gallaway,'^ 
the  leading  town  of  Connaught.  Clavina  had  won  all  the 
kingdom  with  Apollo's  aid  by  a  clever  trick,  and  then 

She  built  a  city  to  her  lasting  fame 

and  it  Clavinia  called  by  her  name 

w"^  tyme  hath  changed  &  the  citie  too 

strange  unexpected  thinges,  this  Tyme  will  doe 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  21,  27.  ^  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  21  verso. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  25  ff. 

<  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  91.  Colin  Clout  Comes  Home  Again  gives  a 
delightful  picture  of  Spenser  in  Ireland. 


J.   M.   GENT  79 

Galiva  now  they  call't,  we  Gallaway 
Clavinas  name's  forgotten  many  a  daye 
it  Gan-away  mee  thinkes  would  better  sound 
but  reason  oft  is  w**^  longe  custome  drownd 
after  the  old  shape  it  doth  still  remaine 
the  buildings,  tower  like  it  doth  still  reteyne 
they  were  Clavinians  called  here  to  fore 
no  we  Gallawayes  (I  thinke)  for  ever  more.^ 

J.  M.'s  interest  in  Ireland  and  personal  knowledge  of 
that  country  led  him  to  make  it  a  large  part  of  the  Parson's 
discourse  in  a  story-telling  contest  on  the  trip  home  from 
Cadiz.  The  Parson  was  a  man  of  serious  and  devout  mind; 
indeed,  the  boisterous  Shipsmaster  calls  him  a  "Puritan." 
He  feels  ill  at  ease  among  the  mirth-loving  party  lounging 
on  the  deck,  and  when  he  draws  the  first  lot,  after  much 
hearty  badinage  on  the  part  of  the  master  of  ceremonies, 
he  proceeds  to  discuss  the  commonwealth  and  the  planting 
of  colonies.  Of  Ireland  he  speaks  gravely  and  with  author- 
ity. He  strongly  disapproves  of  the  Virginia  attempt  at 
colonization,  but  in  Ireland  he  knows  many 

"...  honest  &  vertuous 

that  there  abide,  many  religious 

the  greater  p[arl|te  though  are  of  people  base 

noe  furtherers  of  vertue  in  any  case 

but  that  it  is  a  noble  business 

I  not  deny,  but  freely  doe  confesse 

for  every  day  men  even  of  qualitie 

&  of  good  rank  goe  thither  for  supply. 

as  th'  place  is  rich  if  that  it  were  secure 

my  self  to  live  there  I  could  well  indur.^ 

And  for  o""  people  that  to  Ireland  goe 

that  enterprise  I  doe  allowe  also 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  27  verso. 

2  This  couplet  is  written  in  the  margin,  presumably  later,  and  with 
different  ink. 


80  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

for  them  &  us  it  can  not  be  but  good 

&  certainly  it  might  have  sav'd  much  blood 

if  it  had  bin  attempted  longe  agone 

And  so  I  say  I  not  mislike  a  whitte 

our  Irish  busines  &  the  planting  it 

but  this  in  them  I  mislike  utterly 

that  they  run  over  nowe  so  frequently 

who  are  in  debt  &  danger  unto  others 

thereby  undoeing  often  tymes  their  brothers 

fathers  &  mothers,  children,  friends  &  foes 

forgetting  credite  over  straite  he  goes 

to  th'  credito""®  most  great  wTonge  &  undoeing 

nought  can  restreine  them  but  they  still  are  goeing 

ech  day  &  houre,  nor  roughnes  of  the  sea 

nor  rocks  &  shelves  can  cause  them  here  to  stay 

that  Banckrouts  &  such  base  shifting  knaves 

should  thither  packe  &  dance  on  Neptunes  waves 

&  there  mispende  what  they  from  others  steale 

it  is  iniustice  me  thincks  every  deale 

and  fit  it  were,  some  wholesome  lawes  were  made 

them  to  restreine  from  their  so  coosininge  trade 

they  better  doe  deserve  to  dye  therfore 

then  pilfering  theives  who  steale  for  they  are  poore 

w'^'^  take  a  sheepe,  a  hogge,  a  cowe,  a  horse 

through  biting  neede,  being  driven  to  't  by  force. 

Neede  eateth  through  stone  walles  the  proverb  saith 

but  this  their  packing  openly  bewraith  .  .  . 

But  many  good  &  godly  men  I  hope 
are  thither  gon  w^*^  never  love  the  Pope 
nor  did  their  credito""^  in  that  wise  abuse 
but  for  good  reasons  to  dwell  there  do  chuse 
many  of  good  note  &  right  civill  men 
where  goes  one  such  I  wish  that  there  were  ten 
divines  &  laymen  many  I  doe  knowe 
rehgious,  honest,  w'^^  doe  thither  goe 


J.   M.   GENT  81 

some  wanting  meanes  in  their  owne  Native  land 
Some  there  to  preache,  to  governe  &  comand 
and  many  of  deserts  who  hope  thereby 
for  them  &  theirs  to  get  a  competencie."  ^ 

I  have  quoted  the  Parson's  words  at  length,  for  what  he 
tells  us  is  interesting  historically.  He  shows  a  sincere 
interest  in  Ireland  and  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  its 
problems.  The  author,  also,  may  have  used  him,  the  digni- 
fied and  serious  member  of  the  ship's  company,  for  his 
mouthpiece. 

And  so  we  can  safely  conclude  from  this  active  and  large 
interest  of  J .  M.  in  Ireland,  especially  in  Galway  and  Con- 
naught,  and  from  the  authority  of  the  words  spoken  by  the 
author  in  his  own  person  that  he,  the  soldier  poet,  had 
visited  and  served  among  the  rude  "salvage"  kerns  by 
Erno  Lake.  He  had  followed  his  standard  in  Spain;  he 
had  fought  in  Ireland. 

J.  M.  not  only  visited  Spain  and  Ireland;  he  also  seems 
to  know  Flanders  and  the  English  camps  stationed  in  that 
country.  France  is  mentioned  only  casually;  Italy  and 
Rome  ^  are  arraigned  as  the  home  of  the  Pope,  and  as  a 
sink  of  iniquity;  but  the  "Flemish  camps"  and  the  "Lowe- 
countrie"  are  spoken  of  familiarly  as  if  by  one  who  had 
been  a  member  of  the  English  force  sent  to  fight  Spain  in 
the  Netherlands.  Service  under  the  great  Vere  was  popular 
in  the  last  decade  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

J.  M.  speaks  of  "beast-like-swilling"  of  the  "Duch- 
men."'  He  tells  us  that  "they  true  drunkards  are,"  and 
in  religion 

all  kynde  of  sects  &  errors  they  will  prove. 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  135  verso  ff. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  X. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  58  verso. 


82  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

In  speaking  of  the  lottery,  we  read, 

the  States  of  Flanders  doe  the  same  alio  we. ^ 

In  another  place  a  betrayed  husband  searches  for  his  erring 
wife  "in  the  Lowe  Countries,"  for 

he  thought  she  had  bin  following  the  campe.^ 
Consequently, 

Dort,  Hage,  Ostende,  &  Amsterdam  he  sought. 

but  only  to  continue  his  quest  "amongst  the  puncks"  in 
London  and  then  among  the  soldiers  in  Ireland.  In  another 
place,  he  tells  us  that  the  tomb  of  the  proud  woman  who 
had  offended  Latona  is  "neere  unto  Hage"  and  "w[i]thin 
the  Monestary  of  St.  Barnarde."  Indeed  we  can  see  the 
pictures  of  the  offending  ones  "upon  the  tomb,"  if  we  doubt 
him  who  knows  the  story  to  be  true  and  who  has  seen  this 
place,^  near  which  "lyes  th'  Enghsh  &  Flemish  campes."* 

This  story,  it  is  true,  causes  mirth  and  vulgar  scurrility 
among  the  listeners,  and  there  is  much  giddy  and  obscene 
repartee  in  which  the  Flemish  army  camps  and  the  soldiers 
there  stationed  figure  as  principals.'^  The  author,  however, 
does  not  seem  to  speak  of  these  matters  from  report,  but 
as  an  eyewitness  and  a  participant. 

And  so,  though  Flanders  and  the  Netherlands  do  not  play 
so  conspicuous  a  part  in  the  pages  of  the  poem  as  either 
Spain  or  Ireland,  and  although  the  personal  reference  to 
these  countries  is  more  incidental  and  in  the  spirit  of  jest, 
still  because  we  know  that  /.  M.  had  served  in  Spain  and 
the  evidence  is  conclusive  that  he  had  been  in  Ireland,  we 
may  assume  with  reasonable  certainty  that  he  was  also 
near  "the  Hage"  and  one  of  those  English  fighting  under 
the   greatest   captain   of  those   stirring  times.  Sir  Francis 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  134.  3  Vol.  II,  fol.  84  verso. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  107  verso.  '  Vol.  II,  fol.  85. 

6  Vol.  II,  fos.  85  ff. 


J.   M.   GENT  83 

Vere.^  It  was  the  fashion  for  the  gallant,  plumed  young 
courtiers  to  serve  a  campaign  under  this  leader.^ 

J.  M.,  however,  was  not  only  a  soldier  campaigning  in 
Spain,  Ireland,  and  Flanders,  using  his  experience  for  his 
work,  but  he  was  also  a  sincere  opponent  of  the  strong  Roman 
Cathohc  party  in  England  and  a  bigoted  enemy  of  the 
Papacy.  He  feared  with  many  of  his  contemporaries  the 
almost  open  efforts  of  those  of  his  country  who  were  Roman- 
ists to  advance  the  interests  of  their  faith.  He  himself 
was  a  man  of  strong  religious  convictions  and  of  a  simple 
piety.  Indeed,  he  sympathized  with  many  of  the  tenets  of 
the  so-called  Puritans.^ 

The  bigoted  "Precisian,"  with  his  grotesque  mannerisms 
and  attitudinizing,  was  an  attractive  figure  during  this 
period  to  poke  fun  at  and,  indeed,  until  the  stern  necessity 
of  the  Civil  War  taught  the  graceful  cavahers  that  their 
stage  Mulligrubs,^  Tribulation  Wholesomes,^  and  Zeal-of 
the-Land  Busys  ^  were  not  at  all  times  canting,  whining 
hypocrites,  but  brave  soldiers  and  earnest  patriots.  J.  M. 
may  have  been  a  soldier-adventurer  and  a  lover  of  loose 
tales  smacking  of  the  camp  or  the  tavern,  but  he  was  also 
a  militant  Christian,  sincere  in  his  faith.  He  paid  devout 
and  simple  homage  to  his  God,  defending  the  sanctity  of 
the  Sabbath  and  the  purity  of  his  faith;    consequently  he 

^  Jervase  Markham,  in  his  Epistles  of  War,  1622,  speaks  of  Vere  as 
"wonderfully  skilled  in  entrenching." 

2  C.  R.  Markham,  The  Fighting  Veres,  p.  410. 

^  Thomas  Puller,  in  his  Church  History,  traces  the  earliest  use  of  the 
term  "Puritan"  to  1564.  Archbishop  Parker,  in  his  letters,  uses  "Pre- 
cisian," "Puritan,"  "Presbyterian"  synonymously  for  terms  of  re- 
proach. Cf.  Enc.  Brit,  under  "Puritanism."  By  1600,  when  /.  M. 
commenced  his  work,  the  term  "Puritan"  had  come  to  have  a  definite 
meaning.    Cf.  Gardiner,  Hist,  of  Eng.,  Vol.  I,  pp.  29  ff. 

''  Marston,  The  Dutch  Courtezan. 

^  The  Alchemist.  ®  Bartholomew  Fair. 


84  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

resented  the  unmerited  abuse  heaped  on  the  Puritan.  In 
fact,  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  has  not  only  many  references 
to  the  might  and  justice  of 

Thou  great  all-seeing,  &  almighty  God,^ 

which  show  the  sincerity  of  the  author's  rehgious  beUef, 
but  it  also  contains  several  passages  which  need  consider- 
ation, in  which  the  Puritan  is  defended  and  praised. 

J.  M.,  in  one  place,  contrasts  the  honest  Puritan  with 
a  grasping  and  conscienceless  advocate  who,  defending  his 
iUicit  gains,  remarks, 

"Well  said  that  worthy  Prophet  Machiavell 
let  me  get  goods,  &  let  them  talke  of  Hell 
for  Puritans  &  fooles  that  be  precise 
w^^  above  all  ^vill  seeme  to  be  most  wise 
they  talke  enough  of  their  great  Joves  beheast 
but  Machiavell  his  statutes  please  me  best 
So,  I  may  thrive  let  all  men  rot,  decay." 

Again,  in  attacking  the  conspirators  in  the  Gunpowder 
Plot,  the  author  seems  to  associate  himself  clearly  with  the 
Pm-itans.     He  writes: 

the  Puritans,  they  meant  to  charge  w**^  th'  facte 

then  all  the  rest  yet,  a  more  damned  acte 

to  charge  such  as  were  innocent  &  free 

who  never  dealt  in  blacke  conspiracie 

nay  who  had  rather  dye  a  thousand  deathes 

then  but  conteine  it  in  their  myndes  uneaths  ^ 

when  we,  of  yeares  had  nigh  a  Jubilee 

enioyed  th'  Gospell,  then  this  treacherie 

was  by  these  vassals  of  that  damned-pit 

attempted  first,  &  then  they  thriv'd  in  it 

next  Saboth  day  at  night,  etc.^ 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  134  verso. 

=  Not  easily,  with  difficulty;  see  2  Henry  VI,  Act  II,  Sc.  4,  8. 

3  Vol.  II,  fos.  204  ff. 


J.   M.   GENT  85 

In  another  place,  when  he  tells  of  the  Romanist  plots  in 
Scotland  against  the  young  James,  he  declares  that  the 
king  is 

The  most  religious  Prince  in  Christendome 

cheife  enemie  to  that  apostate  Rome 

Europe  hath  not  a  more  religious  Kinge 

to  Sathans  kingdome,  such  destruction  bringe. 

(To  be  a  Puritan  cold  or  Precise 

is  the  greatst  wronge  that  any  can  devise 

and  by  good  reason  for  it  is  as  much 

as  if  yo"  should,  a  mans  deere  credite  touche 

by  sayinge  he's  an  honest  man  &  iuste 

one  that  upon  his  bare  worde  yo*^  may  truste 

that  hateth  swearing,  whoringe,  drincking,  lyes 

and  all  kyndes  villany  yo"  can  devise 

may  not  a  man  thincke  you  ashamed  be 

when  they  him  praise  for  that  his  honestie?) 

and  certainly  the  divell  could  foretell 

Kinge  James  his  ofspringe  must  his  kingdome  quell.^ 

And  the  good  Parson,  also,  who  probably  speaks  for  the 
author,  on  the  return  voyage  from  Cadiz  is  called  a  "med- 
dling Puritan."-     The  honest  man  replies,  however,  that, 

"for  Kinge  &  countrie  I  doe  daily  pray 

to  bless  them  both,  &  sende  them  health  &  peace." 

In  addition  to  these  direct  references  to  the  Puritan, 
showing  the  author's  admiration  for  their  conduct  and 
profession  of  faith,  there  are  many  additional  passages  in 
the  work,  not  conventional  in  tone,  but  spontaneous  expres- 
sions of  convictions,  which  make  it  evident  that  J.  M.  at 
least  had  strong  sympathy  for  this  sect  and  had  little  patience 
for  spiritual  laxity.  A  happy  shepherd  in  Arcadia,  in  spite 
of  wealth,  did  not  "strout  in  puft  pride"  in  many  colored 
clothes  imitating   "ech  foreign   Nation,"   but  in   "sobrest 

1  Vol.  I,  fol.  78  verso.  «  Vol.  II,  fos.  137  ff. 


86  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

manner"  with  his  hair  "smooth  &  seemly  short"  ^;  the 
gossip  and  indecent  revehy  of  the  tavern  are  attacked, 
where  "unlawful  games"  are  played  "whiles  Divine  service" 
is  held  at  church  ;2  and  again,  while  the  author  is  at  Malvern 
to  drink  the  waters  because  of  his  "collick,"  he  finds  at 

Colwell,  the  towne  on  th'  other  syde  the  Hill 
that  the  people  were  ignorant 

of  that  whereof  they  scarcely  sawe  the  wante 
I  meane  the  truth  &  imortallitie 
the  waye  to  bUsse,  the  sacred  deitie,* 

and  that  they  "doe  profane  the  Saboth-there."     He  tells  us: 

the  neighboure  townes,  they  on  the  Saboth  feaste 

a  Master  of  Misrule  enterteynes  ech  guest 

w**^  drums  &  Bagpipes  &  w**"  warlike  Gunnes 

there  as  to  May-games  all  the  people  runnes 

they  greate  provission  make  to  enterteyne 

Ideoats,  Asses,  &  ffooles,  old  &  vaine 

and  all  this  reveUing  crue  to  church  must  goe 

About  Mid-service,  they  goe  on  a  Rowe 

after  the  Priest,  into  the  Church-ale-house 

(w*4n  the  church  yard  standeth)  to  carouse 

not  carouse  say  they,  but  breake  their  fast 

because  their  Calves-heads  mil  noe  longer  last 

w'^^,  being  done,  to  church  they  hye  apace 

their  latter  service,  serves  for  after  grace 

then  from  the  Church,  the  May-pole,  they  doe  bringe 

and  set  it  up  (tis  sure  a  heathnish  tliinge) 

the  rest  of  th'  day,  in  feasting  &  in  dancing 

they  spende,  w"'^  should  be  in  gods  name  advancing.* 

The  leader  of  this  flock,  to  J.  M.'s  dismay,  is  ilhterate, 
unfit  to  guide  and  teach  his  people.^    In  fact,  few  of  the 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  26  ff.  "  Vol.  II,  fol.  96. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  236  verso.  ^  Vol.  II,  fol.  96  verso. 

3  Vol.  II,  fos.  97  ff.  J.  M.  tells  a  story  of  an  illiterate  clergyman. 


J.   M.   GENT  '  87 

clergy  have  taken  a  "degree  in  Schooles"  and,  in  conse- 
sequence,  hold  them  "that  doe  but  bookish  fooles."  The 
author  then  writes  with  deep  indignation: 

poore  Sots  are  they  that  to  the  Universitie 
doe  sende  their  sonnes,  who  might  for  certainety 
at  Gramar-schoole  learne  Divinitie  enough 
as  for  the  Liberall  Arts,  why  marry  fough  ^ 
what  needeth  that,  doe  we  not  dayUe  see 
that  all  Trades-men  can  teache  Divinitie 
Lawyers,  Hosiers,  Hatters,  Fustian-weavers 
Drapers,  Black-smiths,  drovers,  &  Logge  cleavers 
will  shortly  come  on  too :  "^ 

In  close  connection  with  the  author's  commendations  of 
the  Puritans  and  with  his  expressions  of  religious  belief  is 
his  defense  of  the  petulant  and  fiery  Essex  of  whom  the 
Puritans  "had  hoped  well."^  Indeed  it  may  be  possible 
that  J .  M.,  serving  with  Essex  in  the  Cadiz  campaign  and 
hearing  Wright,  the  Puritan  tutor  of  the  popular  leader, 
preach  a  sermon  giving  thanks  for  the  victory  after  the 
coup  de  main,'^  may  have  been  influenced  by  the  convictions 
of  his  general.  But  his  hearty  praise  in  The  Newe  Meta- 
morphosis of  Essex  after  his  execution,  and  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  all  mention  of  his  name  was  sternly  suppressed 
for  some  years  after  his  death,^  not  only  reflects  credit  on 
the  courage  of  the  author  if  he  planned  publication  at  the 
time  of  composition,  but  it  also  aids  in  establishing  his 
identity;   for  J.  M.  must  have  been  in  peculiarly  close  and 

^  Exclamation. 
2  Vol.  II,  fol.  97. 

*  Domestic  Correspondence  of  Elizabeth,  Vol.  CCXXXVIII.  (Roll's 
House.) 

*  Devereux,  W.  B.,  Lives  and  Letters  of  the  Devereux,  Earls  of  Essex. 
'  The  Philotas  of  Daniel  was  suppressed  in  1605  because  it  praised 

Essex. 


88  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

intimate  relations  with  the  young  favorite  of  EUzabeth  to 
champion  an  unpopular  cause. 

In  speaking  of  plots  against  the  state,  he  writes : 

let  never  Traytors  death  be  longe  neglected 

from  such  foule  vermin,  Lord  us  freedom  give,^ 

and  then  he  adds: 

brave  Essex  had  the  sharpest  punishment 
that  law  or  justice  could  'gainst  him  invent 
&  quickly,  too,  he  liv'd  not  longe  to  pleade, 
his  best  deserts,  w°^  might  stande  some  insteade 
yet  he  'gainst  State  or  queene  did  not  conspire; 
let  viperous  villaines  have  deserved  hyre, 
noe,  they  doe,  often  better  scape  by  farre, 
then  such  to  whome  we  most  beholdinge  are.^ 

The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  however,  gives  us  further 
evidence  of  the  author's  personal  tastes  and  character  in 
addition  to  his  Puritan  convictions  and  his  admiration  of 
Essex.  No  one  could  read  the  poem,  even  in  the  most 
cursory  fashion,  without  arriving  at  the  conclusion  that  the 
poet  was  famiUar  with  the  country;  that  he  had  enjoyed 
with  all  his  buoyant  vitality  the  pursuits  of  the  country 
gentleman;  that  he  not  only  delighted  in  fishing,  hunting, 
and  the  out-of-door  sports  of  his  day,  but  that  he  also  had 
more  than  an  amateur  knowledge  of  trees  and  plants  and 
of  their  uses;  and  that  he  was  familiar  with  the  problems  of 
the  laborer  and  the  farm.  He  speaks  of  rural  matters  with 
an  intimate  knowledge.  He  assumes  an  air  of  authority. 
An  occasional  Une,  a  brief  passage,  even  an  illuminating 
word  will  lead  the  reader  to  this  conclusion,  even  though 
in  some  instances  positive  confirmation  may  seem  lacking. 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  198  verso  ff. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  199.  This  passage  is  written  in  the  margin  of  the 
page. 


J.   M.  GENT  89 

J.  M.,  it  is  true,  never  meets  Nature  in  her  rarely  confiden- 
tial moods;  he  has  not  the  poet's  eye  or  the  poet's  heart 
to  offer  adoration  on  the  shrine  of  a  Mistress  of  entrancing 
variety.  But  a  sturdy  Englishman,  he  rejoices  in  a  noble 
tree,  he  delights  in  placid  rivers  winding  their  course  to 
the  North  Sea,  he  craves  a  life  of  action  and  the  simple 
pleasures  of  the  open.  His  work  gains  charm  from  this 
rural  coloring  and  background. 

In  this  connection  I  can  safely  assert  that  J.  M.  was  a 
fisherman.  There  are  ever  recurring  references  to  "white 
scal'd"  mullets;  ^  to 

.  .  .  Thornback,  flare  &  of  the  dainty  chaite;  ^ 

to  the  pike  with  "gaping  mouth "^  and  the  ruddy  salmon 
which  pursues  the  pike;*  to 

.  .  .  sweete  white  scaled,  red  fyned,  river  fishe 
and  spotted  Treats;  ^ 

to  eels,^  living  in  marshy  grass,  and  to  the  many  fish  in  the 
silver  Thames.     He  writes, 

about  the  arches,'^  Thames  doth  play  bo-peeke 
w*^  any  Troian  or  els  Merry-Greeke 
and  njinbly  there  she  wyndes  from  arche  to  arche 
when  Phebus  w*^*^  his  gleames  so  hot  doth  parche 
the  liquid  flood.     There  sportive  fishes  playe 
dance  in  brightest  streames  in  fyne  araye 
the  silver  smelt  w'^'^  so  on  ayre  doth  doate 
that  oft  he  skippes  into  the  rowinge  boate 
the  Troute  so  sweete,  that  dayntie  is  &  rare 
who  cunningly  doth  shift  the  ffishers  ware 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  37.  *  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  56  verso. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  82  verso.  ^  Vol.  II,  fol.  2.3. 

3  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  56  verso.  «  Vol.  II,  fol.  67. 

^  London  Bridge. 


90  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

the  Flounder  w*^^  below  at  ground  doth  feed 
the  Barbie  w*^*^  by  th'  bridges  arches  breede 
the  salmon  then  w"*^  water  yields  no  fish  ^ 
that's  a  more  princely  or  more  pleasing  dish 
the  dainty  Mullet  often  there  is  taken 
&  Porposes  whose  flesh  is  like  to  bacon 
there  plenty  is  of  Roches,  bloakes  ^  &  eels 
w''^  ffishermen  catche  in  their  nets  &  cweles  ' 
and  thousands  more  of  spawninge  fish  do  keeps 
w*^in  the  circuit  of  this  pleasant  deepe/ 

We  find  in  one  place,  again,  a  fairly  detailed  picture  of 
the  artificial  pond  made  for  the  keeping  of  fish.  May, 
the  son  of  Mercury,  had  inherited  an  orchard  in  which 
its  owner  had  made  "faire  stewes  ^  for  fish."  Planning  a 
"Lent  feast  to  make,"  he  found  that  a  thief  "had  stolen 
nigh  all  his  fish  away."  The  following  description  is  inter- 
esting, as  it  shows  a  knowledge  of  both  fish  and  poachers: 

A  pilfering  Jack,  that  was  a  neighboure  by 
to  spoile  Mays  fish  by  many  meanes  did  try 


when  he  at  first  did  wth  his  angle  sit 
he  thought  they  more  increast,  the  more  they  bit 
then  would  he  wade  &  stir  about  the  mudde 
that  all  the  fish  unto  the  sydes  did  scudde 
where  he  so  tickled  them  about  the  gils 
that  many  tymes  he  bagges  &  basquets  filles 
he  then  w*^  flue,^  w'^^  casting-net  a  dragge 
went  laden  home  as  much  as  he  could  lagge. 


1 


The  following  three  couplets  are  in  the  margin. 

2  The  word  is  difficult  to  decipher. 

'  Evidently  creels. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  54. 

^  A  small  pond.  Markham  uses  the  word  in  Country  Contentments, 
p.  79,  1683  edition. 

6  A  small  fishnet.  Cf.  W.  H.  Turner,  Select  Rec.  1569.  Oxford, 
p.  329;    "Nor  laye  any  flewe  or  other  nett." 


J.    M.   GENT  91 

but  then  the  ponds  were  busht  and  staked  soe 
as  he  nor  angle  nor  yet  net  could  throwe 
so  that  at  last  for  very  fell  despighte 
he  poisoned  pondes  &  fish  in  dead  of  night.  ^ 

This  thief  comes  one  evening 

unto  a  stewe  that  then  was  newely  stored 

whose  bottome  all  with  pavinge-bricke  was  floored.^ 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  picture  of  a  small  fish 
pond  or  stew  with  similar  descriptions  of  Jervase  Mark- 
ham,3  the  contemporary  authority  on  country  sports. 
We  can  then  judge  that  the  author  of  The  Newe  Metamor- 
phosis had  a  professional  know^ledgc  of  the  care  of  fish. 
Markham  also  speaks  of  the  mud,  of  the  depth  of  the  water, 
and  of  sharp  stakes  to  ward  off  thieves.'* 

Contrary  to  the  example  of  Ovid,  we  often  find  in  this 
work  the  metamorphosis  of  the  characters  into  a  fish  or  the 
enemies  of  fish.     The  thief  is  transformed  into  the  otter, ^ 

who  still  the  fish  in  every  place  doth  worme 
in  pondes  &  rivers, 

and  the  guilty  lover  into  the  "Heme"  which  preys  on  fish,^ 
An  excellent  example  of  the  metamorphosis  into  a  fish  is 
where  Cupid,  wandering  on  the  earth,  changes  some  lovers, 
broken-hearted  because  of  a  cruel  father,  into  carp, 

1  Vol.  I,  Part,  II  fol.  26  verso. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  26  verso.    This  stew  is  used  for  bathing. 

3  Cheap  and  Good  Husbandry,  edition  1683,  pp.  142  ff.,  and  Country 
Contentments,  pp.  78  ff. 

*  Cheap  and  Good  Husbandry,  p.  144:  "and  if  you  stick,  sharp  stakes 
likewise  by  every  side  of  the  Pond,  that  will  keep  theeves  from  robbing 
them." 

*  Country  Contentments,  p.  77:  "Amongst  all  the  Ravenous  Crea- 
tures which  destroy  fish,  there  is  none  more  greedy  than  the  Otter." 

«  Ibid.,  p.  77:  "Next  to  the  Otter,  the  Hern  is  a  great  devourer  of 
fieh." 


92  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

who  therin  spaw'nd  &  bred  abundantly 

Thus  the  first  Carpes  in  Faiery-land  were  bred 
of  two  true  lovers,  by  freinds  severed 
they  came  not  out  of  France  as  many  tell 
House-carpes  came  thence,  (or  els  from  deepest  hell) 
where  in  more  plenty  they  breede  &  increase 
then  ponde-carpes  doe,  'tis  litle  for  o'  ease 
fewe,  housen  shall  yo"  fynde  the  w'^'^  are  free 
yet  have  I  none,  to  me  they  dainty  be.^ 

But  it  is  in  a  playful  passage,  phrased  most  happily, 
addressed,  as  it  seems,  to  an  honest  country  lad,  that  we 
see  that  J.  M.  is  not  only  an  angler,  but  also,  like  every 
true  angler,  a  philosopher.  Cupid  again  has  come  to  grief 
in  his  earthly  wanderings  and  has  transformed  some  jeering 
urchins,  bathing  in  a  stream,  into  Stanstickles, 

a  fishe  noe  bigger  then  prety  worme 

not  all  so  bigge  as  is  the  tinye  Mennowe 

w*4n  that  brooke  there  are  of  them  enowe 

and  for  they  came  ^  all  arm'd  wth  staves  &  stakes 

they  weare  sharpe  thornes  upon  their  very  backes.' 

The  poet  then  interrupts  his  story  of  Cupid  with  the  en- 
counter of  rustic  Martin  and  the  "stanstickles."    He  writes, 

Martin  one  tyme  when  he  first  learnd  to  fish 

of  Mennowes  there  did  thinke  to  catch  a  dishe 

the  first  that  bitte  did  prove  a  Stanstickle 

the  w*  did  so  my  novice  ffisher  tickle 

he  being  greedy  to  take't  off  his  hooke 

it  stucke  in  's  fingers  w''^  did  make  him  looke 

like  one  aghast:  Snailes  (quoth  he)  a  Thornebacke 

by  the  blessed  Roode,  I  have  tan'e  one:  Alack 

good  Martin  thou  hast  noe  good  lucke 

neither  in  fishing  nor  in  catching  ducke 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  7  verso.  2  -phe  country  lads. 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  9. 


J.   M.   GENT  93 

fishing  nor  fleshing  followe  not  thy  hande 
foUowe  thy  trade  then,  that  w*^**  thou  must  stande 
ffishing's  an  Arte  ^  for  swearers  most  unfit 
they  must  have  patience  that  do  practize  it 
fishing's  an  exercise  &  not  a  trade  ^ 
such  as  use  't  other  wise  it  hath  beggars  made 
yo"  have  an  honest  trade  then  five  therby 
yo^'le  dye  a  beggar  els;  He  tell  yo**  why 
yo"  doe  neglecte  y'  business  at  home 
&  after  flesh  as  well  as  fish  doe  roame 
w"^  cannot  be  w[i]*^out  expence  of  coyne 
whil'st  thy  poore  wife  doth  sit  at  home  &  pine 
wants  needefull  thinges  for  backe  &  belly  fitte 
when  like  a  foole  thou  vainely  spendest  it 
Martin  amende  &  He  forbeare  to  shame  thee 
but  if  thou  dost  not,  He  hereafter  name  thee.' 

In  this  passage  speaks  the  true  fisherman,  one  who  appre- 
ciates the  fascinations  of  angling.^ 

J.  M.  also  refers  at  times  to  hawking,^  to  "pampered 
stalhons,  kept  for  breede,"^  to  the  snaring  of  rabbits,^  and 

1  Country  Contentments,  p.  60,  Markham  writes  that  a  skillful  angler 
ought  "to  be  a  general  Scholler";  p.  61:  "Then  he  must  be  exceed- 
ing patient,  and  neither  vex  nor  excruciate  himself  with  losses  or  mis- 
chances"; p.  48:  "But  in  this  Art  of  Angling  there  is  no  such  evil, 
no  such  sinful  violence"  (as  "Theft,  Blasphemy,  or  Bloodshed"). 

2  Ibid.,  p.  48. 

3  Vol.  II,  fos.  9  ff. 

*  The  references  and  the  metamorphosis  to  fish  occur  many  times. 
A  further  example  is  the  fish  to  be  found  at  a  feast,  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol. 
59  verso, 

" .  .  .  the  goodly  spotted  troute 
the  Googeon,  Perch,  &  pleasant  feeding  Loache 
the  Barbie,  Mullet,  &  the  floating  Roache 
carpes,  salmon." 

'  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  115. 
«  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  20. 
^  Vol.  II,  Book  VI. 


94  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

to  the  hunting  hound.  He  knows  horses,  and  he  even  gives 
a  Hvely  picture  of  the  single  combat  so  popular  in  the  court 
entertainments  during  the  author's  lifetime.  He  writes 
of  the  spirited  horses,  restive  under  constraint: 

scarce  could  the  royall  Ryders  hold  their  horse 

but  ech  of  them  would  fayne  be  at  his  course 

they  stampe,  they  snort,  they  blowe,  they  chanke  the  bitte 

they  rise,  they  leape,  they  pawinge  make  a  pitte 

they  nowe  gird  forward  wayting  for  the  reyne 

that  w*^  one  hand  they  hardly  them  refreine 

so  full  of  spirit  were  these  gallant  steedes 

that  from  their  nostrils  flames  of  fyre  p[ro]cedes,^ 

and,  as  is  natural,  he  lauds  hunting.  Indeed,  he  justifies 
the  killing  of  game.  He  writes  in  much  the  same  words  as 
Markham  that  hunting  is 

a  lawfuU  pastime,  therfore  well  he  might 
a  princely  pleasure,  most  fit  for  a  Kinge. 
for  that  it  doth  so  swete  contentment  bringe 
as  they  the  noisome  hurtfull  beasts  do  chase 
that  corne  &  catle  do  devoure  apace 
so  they  the  vicious  in  the  comonwealth 
daily  hunt  out  &  kill,  for  goodmens  health 
thus  in  this  pleasure,  they  do  plainly  showe 
that  they  the  evill  from  the  good  doe  knowe.^ 

J.  M.  also  shows  his  knowledge  of  rural  England  and  his 
personal  inclinations  in  his  real  love  for  trees  and  flowers. 
He  possesses  a  fund  of  quaint  lore,  gained  from  his  reading 
and  his  observations,  which  at  times  lends  a  homely  charm 
to  his  description.  He  attacks  with  honest  indignation 
the  spendthrifts  who  sell  "an  hundred  goodly  Oakes"^  for 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  42  verso. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  17  verso.  Markham  in  Country  Contentments, 
p.  3,  speaks  of  hunting  "  as  being  the  most  royal  for  the  stateliness 
thereof  "  of  all  recreations.  ^  Vol.  II,  fol.  257  verso. 


J.   M.  GENT  95 

their  idle  pleasures.     To  fell  trees,  he  writes, 

...  is  a  practice  w''^  o"^  spendthrifts  use 

and  'gainst  the  comonweale  a  greate  abuse 

he  that  intends  his  land  to  sell  away 

first  'mongst  his  tymber  he  doth  make  a  fray 

downe  in  one  yeare  w*'^  have  been  hundreds  growing 

they  care  to  fell,  let  others  care  for  sowinge 

they  first  sell  wood  &  tymber,  then  the  clods 

&  thus  they  make  most  cruell  biting  rods 

wherby  not  only  they  themselves  are  whipt 

but  th'  comonwealth  by  them  is  lewdly  ^  stript 

wasted  and  stript  of  tymber  &  of  fuell,^ 

and  the  "Boxe,  the  bane  of  hony  bees,"^  "Holme,  Ewe  & 
Cypresse  tree,"  the  "shady  Beeche,  from  showers  a  goodly 
cloake,"  and  — 

the  tall  straite  Ashe,  the  Elme  for  water  worke 
Crabtree  for  Millers,  Maple  where  squirrels  lurke 
the  greate-growne  Popler,  w**^  the  Aspen  tree 
the  green-spred  Laurell  still  from  thonder  free 
the  goodly  Chesnut,  &  the  Mistle  sweete, 

together  with  the  "sky-kissing  Pine,  faire  Sicamore  .  .  . 
the  makedart  Cornell,"^  all  suffer  from  irreverent  hands. 
Again,  there  is  frequent  mention  of  flowers  by  one  who 
knows  them.  In  speaking  of  an  exquisite  garden  arranged 
in  four  squares  the  author  tells  us  that 

The  third  Square  was  of  sweete  &  fayre  died  flowers 
the  Marygold  that  turneth  dayes  &  howers 
inclyning  still  its  head  unto  the  Sun 
so  longe  untill  his  course  be  fully  run 

1  "rudely"  is  crossed  out;    the  word  written  above  is  diflScult  to 
decipher. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  70. 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  62  verso,  and  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  59. 
*  Vol.  II,  fos.  69  verso  £f. 


96  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

in  tufts  there  grewe  the  Purple  velvet-flower 
and  fast  by  that  the  spotted  Gilly-flower 
March-violets,  Goates  beard  &  the  Pincke 
the  Globe-Gee,  &  Carnation  (I  thinke) 
Anemonyes,  both  red  &  white  &  blue 
single  &  double  &  of  many  hue 

the  Bulbus- Violet,  &  Convallium  sweete 
th'  Emperiall-Lilly,  w''^'  doth  erly  greete 
the  Mountaine-hlly  &  the  Byzantine 
the  Alexandrine  &  Narcissus  fyne 
still-bleeding  Hyacinthus  there  did  stande 
unawares  killed  by  Apollos  hande 
the  Fritularia,  speckled  like  a  snake 
Starlight,  cald  so  for  noble  Sidneys  sake 

diverse  coloured  Tulips  stoode  thereby 

flambant,  strawe  colored,  white  as  yvorye, 

coloured  like  cloth  of  gold,   grewe  ver'gd  w*^  red 

and  some  were  yealowe  w*^  greene  overspread 

the  purple  Pagle  like\vise  there  did  growe 

the  glorious  flower  of  the  Sun  also 

the  Crowne-Imperiall  w**"  his  perly  droppes 

the  double  white  Gee,  &  the  sweete  Cowesloppes. 

This  garden  had  walks  bordered  by  the  rose, 

some  red,  some  white,  some  of  the  damaske  sweete 
of  every  kynde  &  sorte,  as  was  most  meete 
for  such  a  God;  the  double  yealowe  rose 
&  double  muske,  so  pleasing  to  the  nose 
the  speckled  rose,  a  plant  both  newe  &  rare 
was  there  preserved  both  w*^  cost  &  care 
the  Province,  Synamon  &  velvet-blacke 
and  to  be  breife,  not  any  kynde  did  lacke.^ 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  57  verso  ff. 


J,   M.   GENT  97 

The  poet  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  however,  displays 
most  markedly  and  repeatedly  a  characteristic  so  distinctive 
that  it  is  of  great  value  in  helping  to  determine  the  authorship 
of  the  manuscript.  We  have  seen  in  many  of  the  quotations 
given  in  the  preceding  pages  a  fondness,  amounting  almost 
to  tediousness  and  often  detrimental  to  his  work,  for  ex- 
plaining the  material  uses  of  trees,  flowers,  fish,  herbs,  and 
other  things.  He  tells  us  the  "Boxe  is  the  bane  of  Honey 
bees,"  the  elm  is  good  for  "  water- worke,"  the  crab  tree  for 
millers  ;  or  again  the  "stewe,"  which  is  used  for  swimming 
as  well  as  for  fish,  must  have  sharp  stakes  and  bushes  to 
ward  off  thieves,  the  first  carps  are  bred  in  England,  and 
numerous  other  matters  of  this  kind.  J.  M.  is  practical. 
He  confesses  he  is  a  "poore  poet,"  but  he  also  makes  it 
clear  that  he  had  much  useful,  if  quaint  information,  which 
he  relishes  giving  to  his  reader.  He  displays  this  knowledge 
con  amore  and  with  no  thought  of  its  lack  of  poetic  charm. 

Instances  of  this  are  most  numerous.  In  a  garden  are 
not  only  all  varieties  of  flowers,  but  also  the  serviceable 

onyons  &  Leekes,  Parsnips  &  Carrots  sweete 
all  kynde  of  Pulse,  Cabbage  as  white  as  sheete 
Cucombers,  Melons,  &  the  Turnippe  round 
both  red  &  white. 

He   continues,    in    a   most   characteristic   vein,    concerning 
"Herbes  for  phisicke,"  including 

Vervaine,  the  w'''*  doth  the  Gangrena  heale  * 

AngeUica,  w*^^  eaten  every  meale 

is  found  to  be  the  plagues  best  medicine 

Folefoote,  Germander  &  Thistle  carline 

Saxifrage,  Silvergrasse,  w*^*^  the  coUick  cure 

and  Bettony  for  most  diseases  sure 

Acanthus  there,  &  Divels-bitte  thereby 

so  cald,  as  if  the  divell  did  envye 


98  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

the  wondrous  good,  this  herbe  to  men  doth  bringe 
and  therfore  bytes  it,  sure  a  wondrous  thinge 
Sowe-bread  &  Dittany,  of  such  excellent  worth 
that  neither  of  them,  neede  my  setting  forth.^ 

As  we  see,  he  gives  much  information  belonging  to  the 
province  of  the  physician.  He  tells  the  secrets  of  household 
physic. 

This  tendency  is  further  illustrated  in  those  stories  con- 
cerning unfaithfulness  and  the  world-old  triangle  in  mar- 
riage.    He  knows  many  provocatives  for  lust, 

as  Sperage,  Rocket,  Basill,  Anisseede 

Saffron,  Satyrion  that  same  comon  weede 

Scolymus,  Asphodell,  &  Tricoccon 

Aristolocliia,  Erithranicon 

all  kyndes  of  Bulbus,  rootes  &  Clematis 

Orchis,  Caucalis,  &  Cynosorchis 

w**^  diverse  more,  not  needefuU  much  to  name 

w"**  unto  lust  do  man  so  much  enflame.^ 

And  "fresh-water  creifish,"^  prawns,  lobsters,"  oysters,  and 
mushrooms, 

w''^  growes  not  by  ingendering  nor  seede 

nor  roote  nor  plante  but  (as  she  *  hath  decreed) 

even  of  the  fatnes  of  the  fruitful!  soile 

in  pasture  grounds  where  horse  w*^  ploughs  ner  toile,^ 

artichokes,^  parsnips,"  and  even  the  potato,  possessing  the 
"vertue  ...  to  stir  up  venerye,"^  are  additional  means  to 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  57. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  58  verso.    There  are  several  passages  similar  to 
this.    Cf.  Vol.  II,  fol.  38  verso. 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  38  verso. 

*  Vol.  II,  fol.  176  verso. 

5  Juno. 

6  Vol.  II,  fol.  140  verso.  «  Vol.  II,  fol.  150  verso. 
'  Vol.  II,  fol.  171.  '  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  61. 


J.   M.   GENT  99 

excite  passion.  He  even  informs  us  that  the  three  months 
following  May  "faire  Venus  is  forV)id  to  play."  ^ 

In  addition  to  begin  an  horticultural  expert  with  an  ex- 
tensive knowledge  of  drugs  produced  from  plant  Ufe,  J.  M. 
even  amazes  and,  at  times,  wearies  the  reader  with  a  wealth 
of  culinary  details  usually  found  in  a  pamphlet  of  recipes  of 
an  EngHsh  housewife.  Several  feasts  are  described  in 
detail,  and  we  learn  of 

Pies  made  of  Marrowe  mixt  [with]  Oysters  sweets 
Doucets  &  Cocks  stones  w*^  the  former  meete, 

of  "Eringoes  candied  fyne,"  of  oysters  "dressed  in  sondry 
wayes,"  of  "Duck  eggs  hard  roast,"  of  "fat  Caviare,"  of 
a  "sallet"  composed  of  "lettuce,  onyons,  Leekes,"^  and, 
indeed,  of  many  "other  dishes  more."^  Our  author,  in 
truth,  appears  the  gourmand.  In  spite  of  his  praise  of 
simple  life  ^  and  his  caustic  comments  on  the  vice  of  glut- 
tony,* he  deUghts  in  the  good  things  of  the  table  and  he 
knows  their  ingredients. 

The  passages  and  references  in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
to  farms  and  farm  laborers  are  both  economically  interest- 
ing and  further  confirm  the  assertion  that  J.  M.  knew  and 
enjoyed  the  country.  They  also  show  the  same  inherent 
tendency  to  give  detailed  information.  J.  M.  tells  the 
reader  that 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  10.  Markham,  in  his  Farewell  to  Husbandry, 
1684  edition,  pp.  123  ff.,  writes  that  in  June  "for  your  health"  you 
must  use  "chast  thoughts,"  in  July  you  must  not  "meddle  with  Wine, 
Women,  nor  no  wantonness,"  and  in  August  you  must  "shun  feasts," 
etc. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  61. 

'  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fol.  59  verso;  Vol.  II,  fol.  32. 
*  Vol.  II,  Book  II,  is  a  good  example. 
5  Cf.  Vol.  II,  Book  XI. 


100  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

.  .  .  Hyndes  come  whistling  in  the  graine 
but  er  they  leave,  they  eate  it  out  againe 
his  neighboures  catle  eate  up  his  spare  leaze  ^ 
his  horse  devoure  his  yearely  croppe  of  pease, 
his  Shepeheard  lets  his  sheepe  be  stole  away 
their  nightly  folding  makes  them  easyer  prey 
his  servants  spend  in  possets  &  in  feasts 
more  then  he  doth  on  his  invited  guests 
his  maydes  do  fleece  his  mylke-pans  in  the  night 
so  that  he  often  is  inforc'te  to  fight 


He  can  not  keepe  his  corne  for  Rats  &  Mice 
yet  likes  he  not  to  sell  at  this  base  price 


and  it  is  like,  for  that,  S*  Swythens  day 

(if  it  be  true  that  auncients  of  it  say) 

did  rayne  apace,  &  will  for  forty  more 

succeeding  that,  (all  w"**  will  breede  no  store) 

yea  many  more  it  may  doe  afterwarde 

for  twenty  dayes  past  it  hath  rayned  harde 

all  corne  is  laid  flat  &  is  easely  set 

but  thinne  &  weake  is  most  of  all  o*"  wheate 

Rye  is  all  gappie  ^  barly  that  is  strucke 

that  is  burnt  up  w*^  May-wede,  I  did  mucke  ^ 

these  following  wets,  ye  se  have  bred  a  flood 

and  choaked  all  the  grasse  w*^  durt  &  mud 

Haye-cocks  are  drownd,  &  grass  that  laye  in  swathes 

is  swept  away  into  the  watery  caves 

the  grasse  that  stands  must  nedes  a  murron  brede 

upon  those  catle  w''^  theron  doe  feede.^ 

^  "Lease"  used  in  connection  with  harvesting  can  mean  "pastur- 
age."   Cf.  Murray,  New  Eng.  Diet.,  6,  Part  I,  p.  157. 
2  Thin,  weak. 
^  To  use  for  dung. 
*  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  7  verso  ff. 


J.   M.   GENT  101 

And  again  he  writes: 

if  catle  chance  to  come  in  neighboures  ground 
they  teache  them  sone  the  way  that  leads  to  pounde 
if  from  the  beaten  path  one  hap  to  stray 
action  of  trespasse  they  will  have  straite  waye.^ 

But  it  is  not  only  the  landlord  who  is  encompassed  with 
troubles.  The  poor  girls  of  the  parish  are  called  by  their 
employers  "drat  &  whore," ^  the  working  man  suffers  in- 
dignities and  brutal  treatment  except  in  harvest  time, 
when  the  great  landlord  gives 

.  .  .  kynde  speeche  to  all  &  none  refuse 

the  poorest  in  the  towne  may  then  be  bold 

(if  a  good  harvest-man,  men  doe  liim  hold) 

to  speake  as  freely,  as  a  better  man 

though  scarce  w[i]thout  releife  he  liven  can 

especially  in  tickle  ^  rayny  season 

or  when  as  harvest  men  be  some-what  geason  * 

but  all  the  rest  of  th'  yeare  he  may  goe  by 

he  hath  noe  neede  then  of  his  husbandry 

then  doth  he  look  aloft,  will  scarcely  knowe  him 

nor  any  kyndnes,  not  in  lookes  will  showe  him.  ^ 

In  another  place,  in  speaking  of  the  "Daneworte,"  or  the 
"Blood wort e,"  the  author  tells  us  that 

upon  my  ground  in  too  much  plenty  growes 
this  stronge  ranke  herbe,® 

showing  the  reader  that  J.  M.  himself  probably  cultivated 
land.  Indeed,  in  a  description  of  barley  in  the  early  spring 
he  evinces  an  appreciation   both  of  the  anxieties  of  the 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  92. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  84. 

'  Easy,  uncertain,  unreliable. 
*  Few,  scanty. 

^  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  99  verso. 
«  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  101. 


102  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

farmer   and    of   the   grain   itself   that   further   strengthens 
this  conjecture.     Rewrites: 

as  Barly  feilds  in  glorious  springe  of  yeare 
w^^  chap  &  gape  w*'^  drought,  &  cal  for  rayne 
w''^  when  then  do  from  the  blacks  cloudes  obteyne 
it  presently  comes  wrigling  forth  the  mould 
&  lookes  more  cherely  by  a  thousand  fold 
thriveth  itself  &  ioyes  the  Owners  harte 

the  sighte  wherof  doth  make  his  harte  revive 
after  's  longe  toyle  he  hopeth  then  to  thrive 
forgets  his  sweate  in  digginge  't  out  the  ground.^ 

It  is  not  only  in  this  love  of  the  out-of-doors  and  of 
prosaic  details  that  the  author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
reveals  himself;  as  we  have  seen  before,  he  delights  in 
parading  his  learning.  He  possesses  a  wide  and  varied 
knowledge  gained  by  reading  books  in  French,  Italian, 
Latin,  Spanish,  and,  of  course,  in  his  own  tongue,  and  when- 
ever it  may  add  to  his  pose  of  authority  or  impress  his 
audience  with  his  fund  of  information,  he  mentions  his 
som'ces  and  quotes  laboriously  with  scholarly  pretension. 
The  manuscript  has  many  marginal  references  to  former 
works  on  the  Church,  to  the  chronicles,  and  to  classical  and 
continental  authorities.  At  times  entire  pages  are  devoted 
to  giving  hsts  of  Latin  works  or  unusual  names  for  the 
pagan  divinities.  J.  M.  rarely  speaks  of  his  contemporaries; 
he  devotes  his  attention  to  those  who  have  gained  respect 
and  weight,  because  of  age  or  lack  of  access.  It  is  true  he 
is  not  alone  in  this  respect;  the  Elizabethan  rarely  hesi- 
tated to  display  his  wares  for  his  own  advantage;  modesty 
seldom  deterred  him  in  seeking  the  favor  of  a  patron  or 
lauding  the  merits  of  the  work  of  his  pen.  But  J.  M.  is 
especially  ingenious.     He  has  a  subtle  appreciation  of  every 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  45. 


J.   M.   GENT  103 

means  to  advancement;  he  is  an  adept  in  attracting  atten- 
tion to  his  merits. 

In  connection  with  the  author's  extensive  learning,  the 
question  naturally  follows  whether  or  not  he  had  been  at 
one  of  the  great  universities.  The  manuscript  does  not  aid 
us  materially  in  this.     J.  M.  refers  to  Cambridge  as 

England's  most  famous  University 
where  learned  arts  do  flourish  &  increase/ 

and  he  speaks  of  "Trinity,  St.  Johns  and  Queens  chappell" 
colleges.  On  the  other  hand,  as  there  is  no  mention  of 
Oxford,  it  is  safe  to  conclude  that  he  either  had  been  a 
student  at  Cambridge,  the  center  of  intellectual  puritanism, 
or  had  gained  a  liberal  education  in  other  ways.  Certainly, 
it  seems,  no  Oxford  man  was  the  author  of  The  Newe  Meta- 
morphosis. 

The  fact  that  J.  M.  states  frequently  in  his  work  that  he 
is  a  poet,  though  only  a  "  poore  poet,"  and  a  writer  of  "  course 
Ryme"2  is  also  of  assistance  in  his  identification.  It  would 
appear  from  these  statements  that  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
was  not  his  first  work,  but  that  he  had  already  courted 
pubhc  favor,  although  with  no  great  success.  Indeed, 
when  he  wished  to  reward  a  laborer  for  some  service,  he 
writes  that  "his  purse  said  noe"  and  that 

Poets  for  th'  most  p[ar]te,  thrid-bare  clothed  goe 
I  thinke  it  be  a  grift  ^  bequeathed  to  's  all 
the  poorest  man,  in  myndes  most  liberall."* 

J.  M.  also  tells  us,  when  he  journeys  to  Malvern  springs 
because  of  the  "colhck,"  a  story  of  an  ungrateful  son  whose 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  30  verso. 

2  Vol.  II,  fol.  150  verso. 

3  Possibly  "gift."  The  Oxford  Eng.  Did.  gives  "grift"  as  an  old 
form  of  "graft." 

<  Vol.  II,  fol.  24  verso. 


104  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

conduct  causes  the  death  of  his  father.^  He  speaks  at  length 
of  the  duty  to  a  father  and  gives  examples  of  sons  who 
honored  their  parents.  He  condemns  without  restraint 
all  those  who  have  proved  disobedient  and  ungrateful, 
exclaiming: 

"let  me  be  rather  childless  &  have  none 
then  such  a  viperous  ungodly  sonne."  ^ 

The  author  several  times  in  the  course  of  his  work  returns 
to  this  subject  of  fihal  love.  He  shows  himself  in  a  favor- 
able hght,  and  it  may  be  presumed  with  some  certainty 
that  /.  M.  was  a  good  son  to  a  respected  father. 

But  the  manuscript  even  aids  in  the  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem of  determining  the  author  by  references  to  his  home. 
J.  M.  speaks  frequently  of  the  county  of  Essex.  For  ex- 
ample, he  scorns  an  Essex  parson  who  pretends  to  be  a 
gentleman;  ^  he  tells  of  an  Essex  justice  whom  he  knew, 
who  had  denied  "his  father  to  his  face";^  and  again,  "when 
being  come  home,"  he  found  at  "  Wethersfeild  "  in  Essex  a 
water  "as  good  as  some  of  th'  other"  springs.  The  author 
at  the  time  he  wrote  these  passages  may  have  been  living 
in  Essex,  or  at  least  he  may  have  had  interests  in  the  county. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  have  mention  made  several  times  of 
"th'  East  Angles  Border,"  ^  and  J.  M.  tells  us  in  the  most 
positive  fashion  that, 

On  the  East  Angles  border  I  abide 
yet  not  in  Essex  on  the  outmost  side.^ 

As  the  composition  of  the  poem  extended  for  at  least  four- 
teen or  fifteen  years,  during  this  time  J.  M.  may  have  lived 
in  many  places;  but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  at  some  period  of 

1  Vol.  II,  Book  VI.  "  Vol.  II,  fol.  105. 

2  Vol.  II,  fos.  104  ff.  5  Vol.  II,  fol.  107  verso. 
»  Vol.  II,  fol.  104.                                        «  Vol.  II,  fol.  115. 


J.  M.   GENT  105 

his  life  he  hved  on  the  "East  Angles  border"  and  "on  the 
outmost  side." 

Finally,  no  one  could  read  The  News  Metamorphosis 
or  even  the  numerous  quotations  from  it  in  the  preceding 
pages  without  being  impressed  by  the  racy,  colloquial, 
and  simple  vocabulary  of  the  author.  He  delights  in  homely 
words  of  few  syllables;  he  shuns  contortions  and  remote 
phraseology.  The  grotesque  language  of  much  of  the  con- 
temporary satire,  the  detestable  "sesquipedalian  com- 
pounds" ^  confessing  a  bastard  parentage,  the  nonsensical 
jargon  which  mars  the  early  work  of  Marston,  of  Tourneur, 
and  their  school  with  its  confusing  use  of  ellipse,  its  whimsical 
absurdities,  its  affected  learning  drawn  from  many  store- 
houses, its  perplexing  obscurity,  are  all  absent  from  this 
writer  of  "yrefuU  Satyre."  He  is  alien  to  the  so-called 
school  of  Persius  and  its  annoying  impertinences  to  good 
taste.  His  only  obscurity  arises  from  haste  of  composition 
and  lack  of  revision.  His  vigorous  and  vernacular  English 
is  marred,  it  is  true,  at  times,  by  excessive  mythological 
allusions;  but  this  is  a  fault  only  too  common  even  in  later 
centuries,  and  J.  M.,  claiming  Ovid  as  his  master,  at  least 
can  offer  this  excuse  in  palliation. 

In  determining  the  author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
we  find,  therefore,  that  we  are  aided  by  knowing  that 
J.  M.  claimed  to  be  a  gentleman;-  that  his  name  was 
French  although  his  family  did  not  come  in  with  the  Con- 
quest; that  he  was  a  soldier  serving  at  Cadiz,  in  Ireland, 
and  probably  in  Flanders;  that  he  was  in  sympathy  with 
the  Puritans,  possibly  accepting  their  tenets;    that  he  was 

*  Churton  Collins'  ed.  Tourneur's  Plays  and  Poems,  Vol.  I,  pp. 
xxi  flf. 

^  Not  only  in  the  title  can  we  arrive  at  this  conclusion;  many  times 
in  the  poem  he  pokes  fun  at  the  new  rich  aspirant  to  birth,  and  he 
speaks  as  one  proud  of  his  own  good  birth. 


106  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

an  admirer  of  the  ill-starred  Essex;  that  he  was  familiar 
with  the  country,  rarely  appreciating  the  secrets  of  angling 
and  the  life  of  the  out-of-doors;  that  he  possessed  all  the 
Enghshman's  inherited  love  for  trees;  that  he  knew  flowers 
and  herbs  and  possessed  a  fund  of  expert  if  quaint  learning 
in  regard  to  their  practical  uses  with  an  inherent  tendency 
to  indulge  in  homely,  tedious  explanations;  that  he  was 
interested  and  familiar  with  the  economic  problems  of  the 
country;  that  he  was  a  man  of  wide  reading  and  broad 
culture,  expressing  a  preference  for  Cambridge;  that  he 
had  before  this  work  probably  written  poetry;  that  he  was 
a  devoted  son;  that  he  lived  on  the  "outmost  side"  of  the 
East  Angles;  and  that  he  possessed  a  homely  vernacular 
style.  If  we  bear  these  things  in  mind,  the  search  for  the 
identity  of  /.  M.  gent,  is  facihtated. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

If  we  accept  the  conclusions  of  the  last  chapter,  the 
problem  of  the  authorship  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
becomes,  in  essential  respects,  a  question  of  finding  a  J.  M. 
gent,  writing  between  the  years  1600-1615,  whose  life  con- 
forms to  what  the  author  tells  of  himself  and  whose  personal 
tastes  and  peculiarities  of  style  are  in  harmony  with  what 
we  find  in  the  manuscript. 

The  author  lived  at  a  time  of  remarkable  literary  fecun- 
dity, when  literature  had  become  a  profession,  a  precarious 
means  of  livelihood.  The  words  of  Harte  concerning  Jervase 
Markham  that  he  was  "the  first  English  writer  who  deserves 
to  be  called  a  hackney  writer"  and  that  "all  subjects 
seem  to  have  been  alike  to  him,"^  are  unfair;  for  certainly 
he  was  not  alone  in  trying  to  catch  the  ear  of  his  contem- 
poraries by  diverse  kinds  of  composition.  Gascoigne  had 
wooed  fortune  with  comedy  and  tragedy,  with  poetry 
serious  and  trivial,  with  excellent  criticism  and  other  mis- 
cellaneous prose;  the  versatile  and  by  no  means  contempt- 
ible Churchyard  affected  a  variety  of  subjects  and  styles 
besides  the  broadside  in  verse;  Nash,  Lyly,  and  Greene 
displayed  admirable  facility  in  adapting  their  works  to  the 
changing  fashions  in  taste.  Indeed,  many  of  the  eminent 
figures  of  this  age  were  hackney  writers  in  the  sense  that 
they  wrote  to  please  their  public.  J .  M .  himself  undoubtedly 
planned  his  Newe  Metamorphosis  with  a  view  to  success; 

1  Lowndes,  Bib.  Manual,  Vol.  Ill,  Part  2,  p.  1474:  William  Harte, 
Essays  in  Husbandry. 

107 


108  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

he  chose  popular  themes  and  conventional  motifs;  and  the 
fact  that  he  was  only  one  of  many  who  were  striving  in  this 
way  to  win  a  Uvelihood  and  fame  makes  the  problem  of 
identification  even  more  difficult. 

In  a  question  of  this  kind,  lists  of  those  who  were  at  the 
great  universities/  dedicatory  poems  to  authors  and  patrons 
and  prefaces  to  various  published  works,  the  early  writers 
on  the  Ehzabethan  stage  and  literature,^  and  the  several 
Miscellanies  of  the  period  are  all  of  great  value,  for  by  ex- 
amining them  we  can  find,  with  some  degree  of  certainty, 
those  men  with  the  initials  J.  M.  who  were  writing  between 
1600  and  1615.  Of  course,  it  is  possible  that  our  author 
was  unknown,  or  that  in  the  lapse  of  years  his  name  has 
been  forgotten.  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  may  have  been 
the  single  effort  of  one  so  modest,  so  lacking  in  confidence 
that  he  was  unwilling  to  seek  an  audience.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  this  manuscript  bears  every  earmark  of  being 
the  work  of  an  author  with  a  too  facile  pen;  it  has  all  the 
insouciance  of  the  adept  in  winning  popularity.  Its  author 
knew  London  and  the  continent;  he  had  come  in  contact 
with  courtiers  and  with  laborers;  he  understood  the  pubUc 
for  whom  he  was  writing;  indeed,  he  tells  us  that  he  had 
written  poetry  before  and  clearly  for  publication.  It  does 
not  seem  that  he  should  have  been  completely  forgotten. 

Francis  Godolphin  Waldron  in  reading  the  manuscript 
wrote  m  pencil,  as  we  have  seen,  on  the  first  title-page  four 
names,  suggesting  that  one  of  them  might  be  the  author. 
He  mentions  John  Marston,  Jervase  Markham,  John  Mason, 
and  a  fourth  name,  almost  illegible,  James  Martin  or  Mar- 

1  Foster,  Alumni  Oxonienses;  Anthony  a  Wood,  Fasti;  Atheniae 
Cantabrigienses. 

2  Langbaine,  An  Account  of  English  Dramatic  Poets;  Phillips,  The- 
atrum  Poetarum  Anglicanorum;  Winstanley,  The  Lives  of  the  Most 
Famous  English  Poets. 


THE   AUTHOR   OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     109 

ten.^  Waldron,  a  zealous  antiquary  in  literature,  who 
delighted  in  curious  rarities,  has  given  us  the  names  of  the 
only  four  men  of  whom  we  have  record  with  the  initials 
J.  M.  who  were  writing  verse,  similar  in  character  to  The 
Newe  Metamorphosis  during  the  first  part  of  the  seventeenth 
century.^     Let  us  first  consider  the  two  of  less  importance. 

John  Mason  received  his  Bachelor's  degree  at  Cambridge 
in  1600-1,  and  his  Master  of  Arts  in  1606.  He  was  a  resi- 
dent of  Catherine  Hall,'  which  is  not  mentioned  by  J.  M. 
when  he  speaks  of  certain  colleges.  We  know  nothing 
further  of  him  except  that  he  is  the  author  of  a  mediocre, 
ranting  play,*  called  The  Turke  a  worthie  tragedie,  repub- 
lished as  ^n  Excellent  Tragedy  of  Muleasses  the  Turke  and 
Borgias  Governor  of  Florence,  full  of  Interchangeable  variety 
beyond  expectation.  To  him  is  also  assigned  The  School 
Moderator.^  Mason,  or  his  publisher,  evidently  thought 
highly  of  this  "worthie  tragedie";  in  his  title-page  there  is 
none  of  the  modesty  of  J.  M.,  who,  as  it  has  been  shown, 
deprecates  his  shortcomings  as  a  poet. 

It  seems  scarcely  possible  that  Mason,  leaving  Cambridge 
1600-1,  could  have  taken  part  in  the  Cadiz  expedition,  or 
served  under  Essex  in  Ireland.^  The  name  John  Mason, 
also,  is  undeniably  Enghsh.  It  is  in  no  way  probable  that 
he  wrote  The  Newe  Metamorphosis. 

Waldron  in  his  fist  could  scarcely  have  intended  James 

1  Miss  Lucy  Toulmin-Smith,  Shakspere  Allusion-Book,  Vol.  II, 
p.  481,  says  the  fourth  name  is  "rubbed  out."     This  is  incorrect. 

^  Geffray  or  Jeffrey  MinshuU  or  Mynshul  was  born  about  1594. 
He  entered  Gray's  Inn  March  11,  1611-12.  He  was  too  young  to  be 
the  author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis.      Cf.  Dictionary  Nat.  Biog. 

'  Atheniae  Cantabrigienses,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  17,  108;  Lowndes,  Bib. 
Manual,  p.  1505. 

*  Entered  Stationers'  Register,  10  March,  1608. 
«  1648. 

*  Essex  was  made  Governor-General  of  Ireland  1598-99. 


110  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Martin,^  the  philosophical  writer  of  Perthshire  and  teacher 
at  Turin,  as  a  probable  author  of  this  manuscript.  This 
Martin  was  said  to  have  been  at  Oxford,  and  he  is  chiefly 
remembered  for  his  disputative  powers.  He  died  about 
1577,  many  years  before  the  writing  of  the  work  under 
consideration.  Another  James  Martin, ^  a  Master  of  Arts 
of  Oxford  who  was  engaged  in  translating  and  revising  in 
1629  and  1630,^  is  undoubtedly  intended.  The  fact  that 
J.  M.  speaks  of  Cambridge  as  the  greatest  of  England's 
universities  tends  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  Martin's 
authorship,  even  if  it  were  not  for  the  facts  that  his  age, 
his  Enghsh  name,  and  his  type  of  work  would  also  mihtate 
against  this  supposition."* 

John  Marston,  however,  is  a  much  more  significant  figure 
in  our  Hterature  than  either  the  unimportant  and  almost 
unknown  John  Mason  or  James  Martin.  In  addition, 
since  the  time  Waldron  examined  this  manuscript  his  name 
has  been  closely  connected  with  it.  Haslewood,  indeed, 
as  we  have  seen,^  attributed  this  work  to  the  dramatist, 
and  Halliwell-Phillipps  asserted  that  it  resembled  in  some 
degree  his  style.  Miss  Lucy  Toulmin-Smith,^  however, 
denied  the  authorship  of  Marston;  she  maintained  that  he 
would  not  speak  of  his  "infant  Muse"  and  his  "newe- 
borne  poesie"  in  1600  when  he  had  already  gained  favor  by 

1  Dictionary  Nat.  Biog.,  Vol.  XXXVI,  p.  280. 

^  Probably  this  was  the  James  Martin  who  entered  Magdalene 
College,  Oxford,  June  17,  1597,  aged  seventeen.  Cf.  Foster,  Alumni 
Oxanienses,  p.  978. 

*  Saravia's  Vindiciae  Sacrae;    Sylvester's  Panthea. 

*  A  John  Morgan  took  part  in  the  Cadiz  expedition  and  was  knighted 
for  his  ser%dces.  He  Avrote  nothing  so  far  as  it  is  kno'mi.  Cf.  Camden, 
Annales,  Vol.  II,  and  Hakluyt,  Collection  of  Early  Voyages,  London, 
1810,  Vol.  II,  p.  29. 

»  Cf.  Chap.  II. 
6  Cf.  Chap.  II. 


THE   AUTHOR   OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     111 

satires,  plays,  and  an  0 vidian  poem.  In  making  this 
assertion  she  neglected  to  take  into  account  the  fact  that 
J.  M.  also  tells  the  reader  that  he  has  written  poetry  before 
this  work,  or  the  well-known  affectation  of  modesty  on  the 
part  of  Marston.  Miss  Toulmin-Smith,  on  the  other  hand, 
strengthened  her  case  materially  when  she  offered  in  support 
of  her  contention  the  fact  that  the  handwriting  found  in  the 
manuscript  differs  entirely  from  the  dedication  in  Marston's 
own  hand  to  his  Entertainment  of  Alice,  Dowager  Countess 
of  Essex}  She  did  not  take  into  consideration,  however, 
the  supposition  that  the  manuscript  may  have  been  copied 
by  some  friend  of  the  author  or  by  an  amanuensis. 

But  the  chirography  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  is  un- 
doubtedly that  of  the  author.  In  spite  of  the  fact  of  the 
great  length  of  the  work  and  that  its  composition  extended 
over  many  years,  the  handwriting  is  the  same  throughout. 
There  are  trivial  differences,  very  probably  arising  from  haste, 
the  quill  used,  or,  as  the  poet  naively  remarks,  because 
"my  hand  doth  ake"  ^;  but  the  numerous  corrections,  the 
words  inserted  in  place  of  those  crossed  out,  verify  this 
conclusion.  In  consequence,  the  fact  that  the  dedication 
to  the  Entertainment  is  in  a  different  hand  from  that  of  The 
Newe  Metamorphosis  aids  in  the  elimination  of  Marston. 

Marston,  however,  is  too  important  a  figure  to  be  dis- 
missed so  hastily,  especially  since  for  over  a  hundred  years  ^ 
he  has  been  considered  in  connection  with  this  manuscript. 
He  is  also  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  tantalizing  per- 
sonalities contemporary  with  Shakspcre ;  interesting  because 
of  his  distinctive  type  of  work,  tantalizing  because  he  always 
holds  out  promises  rarely  fulfilled  of  tragic   intensity  and 

'  Bridge  water  MS. 
2  Vol.  II,  fol.  268. 

'  Waldron  examined  the  manuscript  in  1806.  Cf.  Vol.  II,  fol.  138 
verso. 


112  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

poetic  beauty.  His  career  was  meteoric.  In  the  very  early 
twenties  he  took  place  with  Lodge,  Hall,  and  "the  author  of 
Piers  Plowman"  as  "best  for  satyre"  in  England,^  and  he 
had  already  shocked  and  dehghted  London  with  his  in- 
sincere but  vigorous  lampoons,  outlandish  in  vocabulary, 
obscure  in  meaning,  ferocious  in  invective,  and,  at  times, 
vile  in  imagination.  A  boy  in  years,  with  all  the  arrogance 
and  fiery  impetuousness  of  youth,  he  vied  with  Shakspere 
and  Marlowe  with  his  Pygmalion,'^  a  poem,  salacious,  it  is 
true,  hke  most  of  its  genre,  but  partly  redeemed  by  light 
humor,  playful  fancy,  and  a  graceful  ease,  noteworthy  in 
one  so  young.  In  spite  of  public  and  even  private  con- 
demnation,^ in  face  of  the  pretended  moral  purpose  of  the 
author,  the  popularity  of  this  Ovidian  idyll  ^  and  of  Marston 
himself  grew  speedily,  and  only  a  few  years  later  he  could 
write  truthfully  that  he  has  been  "so  fortunate  in  the  stage- 
pleasings." 

The  truculent  Gifford,  partial  and  scathing  in  his  criticism, 
seems  to  have  blazed  a  trail,  followed  too  readily  by  many 
successors.  When  he  wrote  that,  "We  have  but  to  open 
his  works  to  be  conscious  that  Marston  was  the  most  scur- 
rilous, filthy,  and  obscene  writer  of  his  time"  and  that 
"some  of  the  most  loathesome  parts  of  The  Monk  are  to  be 
found  in  that  detestable  play"^  (Sophonisba) ,  Gifford 
centered  both  the  scholar's  and  the  reader's  attention  on  all 
that  is  revolting  and  hideous  in  the  work  of  Marston.     His 

1  Meres'  Palladis  Tamia,  New  Shakspere  Society,  Series  4,  I,  p.  161. 

2  The  Metamorphos  of  Pygmalions  Image;  And  Certayne  Satyres, 
1598. 

3  The  Pygmalion  was  ordered  burned  in  1599.  Cf.  41  Regina 
Elizabeth,  Stationers'  Register,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  316  ff.  Anthony  Nixon, 
The  Blacke  Yeare,  1606,  says  Pygmalion  has  helped  to  corrupt  England 
and  "forms  part  of  a  prostitutes  library." 

^  Reprinted,  1613  and  1628. 

^  Gifford,  Ben  Jonson,  ed.  1875,  p.  xx. 


THE   AUTHOR  OF    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     113 

obscene  cynicism,  his  gloomy  pessimism,  his  farrago  of 
outlandish  expressions,  his  absurd  bombast  and  stilted 
grandiloquence,  his  revolting  realism  and  mock  casuistry, 
his  reveling  in  filth  and  nauseous  details  have  all  been 
accented  time  and  time  again  to  the  detriment  and  even  to 
the  neglect  of  much  that  is  admirable  and  noteworthy. 

Objectionable  features,  it  must  be  kept  in  mind,  are  not 
only  found  in  the  plays  of  Marston;  Webster  and  Middle- 
ton,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  and  Massinger,  in  fact  most  of 
his  contemporaries,  offend  the  fine  taste  by  lines  and  scenes 
of  obscene  wit  or  foul  imagination.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
more  foul-mouthed  or  scurrilous  cynic,  grotesquely  deformed 
in  body  and  soul,  in  the  contemporary  drama  than  Thersites; 
he  heaps  filth  and  obloquy  on  everything  pure  and  noble. 
But  Marston  does  not  always  offend  our  sensibilities;  he 
has  given  us  a  great  deal  worthy  of  commendation  and 
hearty  admiration.  He  has  left  us  plays  of  strange  power 
and  with  a  haunting  charm.  The  gloomy  pessimism,  the 
offensive  ribaldry,  the  annoying  mannerisms  are  reUeved 
and,  indeed,  to  a  large  extent  compensated  for  by  vivid 
characterization,  a  freshness  of  wit  and  a  comic  power 
boisterously  merry,  a  repressed  vigor  and  impassioned 
strength,  and  splendid  flashes  of  great  poetry.  The  gentle 
and  discriminating  Lamb  found  much  to  praise.  He  dis- 
covered rare  beauties  in  word  and  thought  even  in  the 
rodomontade  of  Antonio  and  Mellida.^ 

And  so  it  may  be  seen  that  if  Marston  is  responsible  for 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  we  may  expect  to  find  in  the 
course  of  its  rambling  length  the  distinctive  faults  and 
excellencies  of   its  author.     A  work    commenced    in    1600, 

1  The  laughable  underplot  of  the  Mulligrubs  in  The  Dutch  Courtezan, 
and  The  Fawn  are  examples  of  his  power  in  farce.  The  selections  given 
by  Lamb  are  chosen  with  fine  discrimination  and  show  Marston  at 
his  noblest. 


114  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

much  of  it  written  before  1603/  composed  hastily  and,  as 
the  manuscript  shows,  with  httle  and  careless  revision, 
would  assuredly  display  all  the  contortions  and  absurd 
affectations  of  Marston's  early  style,  his  bizarre  vocabulary 
and  his  vagaries,  together  with  his  intrinsic  power  and 
splendor  in  conception  and  his  masterly  command  of  verse. 

Let  us  again  consider,  before  we  take  up  the  question 
of  styhstic  characteristics,  what  we  know  of  /.  M.,  both 
from  his  own  words  and  from  implication,  in  relation  to  the 
meager  information  we  have  of  John  Marston. 

In  the  first  place,  J.  M.  signs  himself  "gentleman." 
Marston  belonged  to  the  old  and  respectable  Shropshire 
family  of  Marstons.^  His  father,  who  had  moved  to  Coven- 
try, was  a  lecturer  of  the  Middle  Temple  in  1592,  and  was 
a  man  of  some  prominence.  The  dramatist  matriculated 
at  Brazenose  College,  Oxford,^  on  the  4th  of  February 
1591-2,  as  a  "gentleman's  son  of  Co.  Warwick."  The 
celebrated  stage  quarrel  also  throws  Kght  on  his  gentle 
birth.  Crispinus  in  Jonson's  Poetaster,  who  figures  as 
Marston,*  boasts  of  the  "armes  which  he  bears,"  and  Chloe 
tells  him  that  "your  legges  doe  sufficiently  shew  you  are  a 
gentleman  borne,  sir:  for  a  man  borne  upon  little  legges, 
is  alwayes  a  gentleman  borne."  ^  Even  the  truculent  Jonson 
who  "beat  Marston,  and  took  his  pistoll  from  him"^ 
conceded  that  his  fiery  and  provoking  opponent  had  the 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  XII,  and  Vol.  II,  Book  I,  both  refer  to  the 
recent  death  of  Elizabeth.  There  are  numerous  references  to  this 
queen,  especially  in  the  first  twelve  books. 

-  Bullen,  The  Works  of  Marston,  Vol.  I,  p.  xii.  Joseph  Hunter, 
Add.  Ms.  24,487  {Chonis  Vatum). 

3  Grosart,  Introduction  to  Marston's  Poems,  p.  x. 

*  Cf.  Jonson's  Conversations  with  William  Drmnmond,  ed.  David 
Laing,  Shakespeare  Society  Publications,  8-10,  pp.  20  ff. 

^  Jonson,  Poetaster,  Act  II,  Sc.  1,  11.  92  ff. 

^  Jonson's  Conversations,  p.  11. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS     115 

traditional  right  to  the  title  of  gentleman.  /.  M.  gent, 
consequently,  may  stand  for  John  Marston. 
-  But  in  the  second  place,  J.  M.  writes  that  his  name  is 
"Frenche"  and  that  it  did  not  come  in  "w*^  conqueringe 
WilUams  sworde."  Marston's  name  is  essentially  EngHsh 
in  its  derivation.  In  the  Visitation  of  Shropshire  (1564- 
1620),  the  first  Marston  referred  to  is  in  1396  ^  over  three 
hundred  years  after  the  Norman  Conquest  —  "who  held 
a  'manor'  in  Salop."  ^  In  no  way  can  Marston  be  iden- 
tified with  what  this  couplet  tells  of  the  author. 

Again  J.  M.  was  a  soldier  who  had  been  at  Cadiz,  in 
Connaught,  and  probably  in  Flanders.  It  is  true  that  we 
know  very  Uttle  of  Marston's  life.  Anthony  a  Wood 
tells  us,  however,  that  he  was  "admitted  Bachelor  of  Arts  on 
6th  of  February  1593-4,  as  the  eldest  son  of  an  Esquire"  ' 
and  "after  completing  that  degree  by  determination  went 
his  way  and  improved  his  learning  in  other  faculties." 
We  learn  from  Meres  that  in  1598  he  was  already  known  in 
literary  London  as  a  conspicuous  satirist.  It  is  usually 
conjectured  that  in  the  years  intervening  he  had  studied 
law.  An  interesting  passage  in  his  father's  will  strengthens 
this  conjecture  and  lends  to  it  authority.  He  leaves 
"my  law  books  to  my  s*^  son  whom  I  hoped  would  have 
profited  by  them  in  the  study  of  law  but  man  proposeth 
and  God  disposeth  &c."  ^  The  future  dramatist  evidently 
grew  restless  in  the  law  chambers  and  turned  to  the  pre- 
carious field  of  letters. 

It  is  possible,  of  course,  that  he  may  have  accompanied 
Essex  and  Lord  Howard  to  Cadiz  in  1596;  many  wild  young 
spirits  and  beplumed  gallants  took  part  in  this  spectacular 

1  Grosart,  Introduction  to  Marston's  Poems,  p.  vi. 

2  Grosart,  Ibid.,  p.  vi. 

3  Wood's  Fasti,  ed.  Bliss,  p.  602. 

*  Grosart,  Introduction  to  Marston's  Poems,  pp.  x  ff. 


116  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

expedition/  and  the  adventurous  young  Marston  may  have 
been  numbered  among  them.  John  Donne,  who  was  about 
three  years  older,  had  been  attracted  by  this  adventure  and 
the  Azores  expedition  a  year  later.  But  in  the  work  of 
Marston  we  find  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  had  ever 
followed  the  calling  of  arms.  In  his  satires  he  rails  in  his 
customary  fashion  at  great  Tubrio  who 

Eats  up  his  arms :  and  wars  munition, 

and  he  prays  that  this  miscreant  will 

Melt  and  consume  in  pleasures  surquedry.'^ 

He  speaks  again  of  "a  dread  Mavortian"  who  "wallows 
unbraced,"  who  is  "nought  but  huge  blaspheming  oaths," 
and  who  has  a  "Swart  snout,  big  looks,  misshapen  Snitzers' 
clothes  ";  indeed  he  is  sunk 

In  sensual  lust  and  midnight  bezelling,^ 

and  is  grossly  bestial.^     Later  he  writes  of  "Swart  Martins" 
Swooping  along  in  wars  feign'd  maskery, 

and  of  those  "soldadoes"  who  are  "brutes  sensual"  pos- 
sessing "no  spark  of  intellectual."^ 

Marston's  pessimistic  attitude  in  his  satires  is  rarely 
sincere  and  mainly  conventional.  His  role  was  that  of  the 
virtuous  scourger  of  the  vices  of  his  fellows,  a  misanthrope 
despairing  in  acrid  terms  of  human  frailty;  but  still  in  spite 
of  his  affectation  of  morality  we  can  judge  from  these  at- 

1  Hakluyt's  Collection  of  Early  Voyages,  London,  1810,  Vol.  II, 
p.  19;    and  Camden,  Annales,  Vol.  II,  p.  161. 

2  Satire  I,,  11.  90  ff.  BuUen,  The  Works  of  Marston,  Vol.  Ill, 
pp.  266  ff. 

'  tippling. 

*  Scourge  of  Villainy,  VII,  11.  100  ff. 

6  Scourge  of  Villainy,  VIII,  11.  77  ff. 


THE   AUTHOR   OF   THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS     117 

tacks  in  his  satires  on  the  soldier  that  he  had  no  intimate 
knowledge  or  predilection  for  the  profession  of  arms. 

In  addition,  in  his  plays  his  soldiers  are  the  soldiers  of 
his  sources  or  the  conventional  man  of  war  of  the  contem- 
porary stage  ^  and  his  references  are  rare  and  superficial  to 
the  foreign  military  engagements  of  his  country.^  Indeed, 
his  youth,  his  activities,  his  rapid  authorship  between 
1597  and  1606,  and  his  works  all  seem  to  preclude  the  sup- 
position that  Marston  was  a  soldier,  or  that  he  had  served 
in  Spain,^  Ireland,  and  Flanders. 

Then  we  have  seen  that  J.  M.,  in  his  more  thoughtful 
moments,  was  either  a  Puritan  or  in  sympathy  with  this 
derided  sect;  several  times,  he  is  outspoken  in  their  de- 
fense and  praise.'*  Marston,  on  the  other  hand,  laughed  at 
the  Puritans  and  gibed  at  their  foibles  both  in  his  satires 
and  in  his  plays.  He  mocks  the  "devout  mealmouth'd 
precision"  and  declares  "no  Jew,  no  Turk"  would  act  more 
inhumanely  toward  a  Christian  "as  this  Puritan,"  only 
"a  seeming  saint  —  vile  cannibal."^  He  also  speaks  of 
"the  rank  Puritan"  who  makes  his  religion  "a  bawd  to 
lewdness"^  and  charges  him  with  the  most  degenerate 
vices.  Then  the  merry  subplot  of  The  Dutch  Courtezan 
is  concerned  with  the  pious  hypocrites,  MulUgrub  and  his 
wife.  It  must  always  be  borne  in  mind  that  this  contumely 
of  the  Puritan  and  making  merry  at  his  expense  are  largely 
conventional;  still  the  J.  M.  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis, 
with  his  dignified  and  earnest  defense  of  the  Puritans  and 

^  The  generals  and  captains  in  Sophonisba  are  examples. 

^  Examples  in  Jacke  Drums  Enlertainment,  pp.  141  and  166,  Simp- 
son, School  of  Shakspcre. 

'  Satire  I,  1.  108,  has  a  possible  reference  to  the  Essex  expedition. 

*  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  pp.  29  ff. 

s  Satire  II,  11.  55-86.     BuUen,  III,  pp.  271  ff. 

«  Scourge  of  Villainy,  Satu-e  IX,  11.  109  ff.  Bullcn  III,  p.  366.  An- 
other attack  is  found  in  Scourge  of  Villainy,  Satire  III,  1.  154. 


118  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

his  indignation  at  the  attempt  to  make  them  suffer  for  the 
Gunpowder  Plot/  could  never  have  written  the  hbels  found 
in  the  satires  and  plays  of  Marston. 

It  is  also  of  interest  that,  whereas  J.  M.  is  constantly 
heaping  abuse  on  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  and  its  followers, 
interrupting  his  stories  in  the  most  aggravating  way  with 
these  attacks  and  even  devoting  two  books  to  the  papists,^ 
Marston  is  comparatively  silent  on  this  subject.  Possibly 
his  half-Italian  mother  may  have  won  his  sympathy  for  the 
Romanists.^ 

The  love  of  the  country  and  that  familiar  knowledge 
and  homely  information  which  /.  M.  delights  in  placing 
before  his  reader  concerning  fishing,  trees,  flowers,  plant 
life,  farming,  and  all  the  many  interests  of  a  man  bred  in 
the  open,  are  not  found  in  the  works  of  Marston.  He 
never  dehghts  in  speaking  of  the  carp,  the  speckled  trout, 
and  other  river  fish;  in  praising  the  craft  of  the  angler; 
in  giving  the  properties  of  herbs  and  trees;  in  homely 
recipes  and  remedies;  indeed,  much  that  is  most  distinctive 
in  the  work  of  J.  M.,  an  inherent  part  of  the  man,  uncon- 
sciously and  continually  betraying  his  tastes  and  training, 
Marston  shows  no  fondness  for.  He  is  a  city  man.  When 
he  gives  his  reader  or  his  audience  local  atmosphere,  when 
he  pictures  the  fop,  the  parasite,  the  spendthrift,  or  the 
gull,  his  background  is  that  of  his  source  or  London. 

In  several  other  important  respects,  which  require  no 
detailed  mention,  it  is  impossible  to  identify  Marston  as 
J.  M.  The  former,  an  Oxford  graduate,  would  scarcely 
call  Cambridge  the  greatest  of  English  universities.     Again, 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  204. 

-  His  maternal  grandfather  was  an  Italian  surgeon,  Andrew  Guarsi, 
who  settled  in  London.    Cf.  Grosart,  Introduction,  pp.  vii  ff. 

3  In  Pygmalion's  Image,  BuUen,  III,  p.  25,  he  refers  to  "peevish 
Papists,"  and  in  The  Scourge  of  Villainy,  Satire  II,  11.  69  ff.,  there 
is  some  conventional  satire. 


THE  AUTHOR   OF   THE   NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     119 

though  Hke  many  of  his  contemporaries  he  knew  several 
languages  and  undoubtedly  had  read  widely,  especially  in 
the  literature  of  Italy/  still  he  never  paraded  his  knowledge; 
he  did  not  trumpet  abroad  his  learning  in  the  manner  so 
characteristic  of  /.  M.  And  finally,  born  in  Coventry, 
hving  in  London  until  at  least  1606-7,  and  presented  with 
the  living  of  Christ  Church  in  Hampshire,  "10th  October 
1616,"  ^  it  is  not  probable  that  he  ever  lived  on  the  "outmost 
border"  of  the  East  Angles,^  the  home  of  J.  M. 

When  we  come  to  the  question  of  style  —  the  diction, 
the  use  of  figures,  the  sentence  structure,  and  the  versi- 
fication —  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  is  so  unUke  the  dis- 
tinctive work  of  Marston  that  it  is  surprising  that  it  could 
have  been  ascribed  to  him  by  any  one  who  had  read  even 
a  few  pages  of  the  manuscript.  Marston  possessed  eccen- 
tricities in  style  so  marked,  frequently  so  absurd,  that  his 
hand  can  be  detected  with  a  degree  of  certainty.  The 
man  himself  was  so  fiery,  so  arrogant  in  disposition,  and  so 
bizarre  in  his  mannerisms,  that  he  became  a  figure  in  much 
of  the  contemporary  drama.  Critics  have  identified  him 
as  a  character  in  several  plays  associated  with  the  War  of 
the  Theatres.  At  various  times  he  has  been  found  to  be 
Pistol,'*  Carlo,^  Anaides,^  Hedon,^  Crispinus,'  the  scurrilous 

^  Aronstein,  Englische  Studien,  XXI,  p.  74,  writes  that  Marston 
knew  Latin  and  the  Italian  noveUsts. 

2  Bullen,  The  Wiyrks  of  Marston,  Vol.  I,  p.  xiv.        ^  Vol.  II,  fol.  115. 

*  Sarrazin,  Kleine  Shakespere  Studien,  in  der  Beitr.  zur  roman.  und 
engl.  Philologie,  X,  says  Marston  is  Pistol.  Wyndham  arrived  at  the 
same  conclusion. 

^  Fleay,  Biographical  Chronicle,  I,  p.  97;  Herford  in  Dictionary 
Nat.  Biog.  in  Ldfe  of  Jonson;  Symonds,  Ben  Jonson,  p.  37;  Penni- 
man,  War  of  the  Theatres,  p.  50.  R.  A.  Small,  The  Stage  Quarrel, 
p.  36,  denies  this  assertion. 

*  Cynthia's  Revels.  Cf.  Penniman,  War  of  the  Theatres,  p.  91.  Small 
denies  this,  p.  37. 

'  Cf.  Small,  p.  37.  *  Dekker,  Satiromastix,  p.  195. 


120  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Thersites,  and  many  others.^  And  his  fustian  style,  mark- 
ing and  marring  his  work,  was  a  characteristic  of  the  man, 
occasioning  much  ridicule.  Clove  in  Every  Man  in  His 
Humour  -  and  Crispinus  in  The  Poetaster  ^  give  us  some  of 
the  abominations  of  many  syllables  of  which  Marston  was 
guilty,  and  the  oft  quoted  passage  from  The  Return  from 
Parnassus,* 

Methiiiks  he  is  a  Ruffian  in  his  stile 
Withouten  bands  or  garters  ornament 
He  quaffes  a  cup  of  French  mans  Helicon 
Then  royster  doyster  in  his  oyhe  tearmes, 

shows  contemporary  opinion  coincided  with  the  later  verdict 
concerning  Marston's  absurdities. 

The  News  Metamorphosis,  on  the  other  hand,  displays 
none  of  these  peculiarities.  The  diction  is  remarkably 
sunple;  there  is  no  obscurity  because  of  the  omission  of 
words;  and  even  in  those  passages  in  which  the  author 
shows  the  most  passion  there  is  no  tendency  to  ellipsis, 
to  the  exclamation  and  the  question,  to  rhetorical  devices, 
and  to  the  high-flown,  strongly  Latinized  jargon  of  Marston. 
J.  M.,  however,  lacks  the  divine  fire  of  the  poet;  to  rise 
to  the  graphic  force  of  felicitous  expression  and  appropriate 
epithet  —  those  magical  flashes  of  genius  that  delight  us 
in  Marston  —  is  never  in  his  power.  In  elevated  passages 
he  is  labored.  His  gift  lies  in  other  directions.  Whenever 
he  strains  for  the  loftier  flights,  he  destroys  his  effect  by 
some  homely  expression  or  prosaic  detail,  banal  and  in- 
felicitous. For  example,  in  his  apotheosis  of  Peace  he 
writes  that 

1  C.  R.  Baskerville,  English  Elements  in  Jonson's  Early  Comedy, 
p.  304,  says  that  Jonson  in  "portrayal  of  character  is  primarily  a 
follower  of  Renaissance  standards  and  ideals,"  and  there  is  "a  large 
background  of  conventionality  in  Jonson's  satire  of  Marston." 

2  Act  III,  Sc.  1.  3  Act  V,  Sc.  3,  11.  484  ff.  ^  Act  I,  Sc.  2. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     121 

It  turneth  swords  to  coulters,  pikes  to  akorne  poles 
it  bringeth  forth  boyes  and  girles  (like  fishe)  in  sholes. 

with  no  intention  of  coarseness,  and  the  unusual  and  dis- 
tasteful, the  "images  of  filth  and  putrefaction"  ^  so  common 
in  Marston  are  foreign  to  his  work. 

In  other  respects  also  the  work  of  Marston  and  J.  M. 
are  dissimilar.  J.  M.  lacks  the  skill  in  verse  displayed  by 
the  dramatist;  he  handles  his  couplet  with  difficulty;  rime 
and  accent  often  shackle  his  rapid  flow  of  narrative.  On 
the  other  hand,  Marston's  versification  in  his  early  satires 
in  which  he  uses  the  couplet  frequently  displays  "a  care- 
lessness and  laxity,"  but  it  also  possesses  a  "freedom  and 
facility,"  ^  a  racy  vigor  and  buoyancy  never  found  in  the 
pages  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  Then,  too,  J.  M. 
never  shows  the  dramatic  power  either  in  characterization 
or  in  visualizing  an  episode  possessed  by  his  greater  contem- 
porary who,  before  he  was  thirty,  had  influenced  to  a  singular 
degree  the  stage  literature  of  his  day. 

It  can  be  safely  concluded  from  the  evidence  which 
has  been  advanced  that  Marston  was  not  the  author  of 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  His  name  was  not  "Frenche"; 
he  probably  was  never  a  soldier;  there  is  no  record  of  his 
being  present  at  the  taking  of  Cadiz,  or  in  Ireland  and 
Flanders;  he  attacked  the  Puritans  and  showed  no  attach- 
ment for  Essex;  he  had  no  interest  in  the  life  and  occupations 
of  the  country;  he  was  not  fond  of  digressing  into  homely 
practical  details;  he  was  not  a  Cambridge  man  and  made  no 
parade  of  his  learning;  he  did  not  live  on  the  "outer" 
border  of  East  Anglia;  his  handwriting  differed  from  that 
of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis;  and  his  style  was  markedly 
unUke  that  of  J.  M. 

1  Thorndike,  Tragedy,  p.  147. 

2  Warton,  Hazlitt  ed.,  Vol.  IV,  p.  409. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    AUTHOR    OF    THE   NEWE    METAMORPHOSIS 
(Continued)  —  JERVASE   MARKHAM 

Since  John  Marston  was  not  the  author  of  The  Newe 
Metamorphosis,  the  versatile  and  proHfic  Jervase  —  often 
written  Jarvis,  Jervis,  and  Gervase,  and  frequently  I. 
and  J.  —  Markham  remains  to  be  considered. 

Markham  belonged  to  a  family  not  only  esteemed  in  its 
native  county  of  Nottingham,  but  which,  in  its  long  history, 
during  many  centuries,  had  also  furnished  some  illustrious 
names  to  the  roll  of  honor  of  England.  Francis  Markham,^ 
an  adventurous  elder  brother  of  Jervase  and  the  author  of 
Five  Decades  of  the  Epistle  of  War  ^  and  the  Booke  of  Honour, 
tells  us  ^  of  the  antiquity  of  the  Markham  family  and  that 
it  antedated  even  the  coming  of  William  the  Conqueror,* 
and  Camden^  writes  that  this  family  ''for  worth  and 
antiquity  hath  been  verie  notable."  Indeed,  before  the  Con- 
quest West  and  East  Markham  had  been  contiguous  par- 

1  Born  1565,  died  1627. 

2  Fol.  1622. 

'  Genealogy  or  Petigre  of  the  Markhams  of  Markham,  Cotham,  Oxton, 
Ollerton  cfc  Sedgebrook,  27  July,  1601. 

^  In  the  earliest  edition,  1835,  of  J.  Burke's  Commoners  &  Landed 
Gentry,  the  lineage  of  the  Markhams  of  Nottinghamshire  is  not  traced 
further  back  than  Henry  II  to  a  certain  Sir  Alexander  de  Marcham, 
Castellan.  A  History  of  the  Markham  Family  by  the  Reverend  David 
Frederick  Markham,  London,  1854,  states  that  the  Markham  family 
traces  its  origin  "to  a  date  anterior  to  the  Norman  Conquest," 
Chap.  I,  p.  I.  (A  new  edition  called  Markham  Memorials,  edited  by 
Sir  Clements  Markham,  has  additional  Markham  data.) 

*  Camden,  Britannia,  p.  550. 

122 


THE    AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      123 

ishes  in  Nottinghamshire,  and  after  the  coming  of  the 
Normans  a  certain  Claron,  who  had  served  the  Confessor, 
retained  West  Markham  under  the  overlordship  of  a  favorite 
of  the  Norman  Duke,  Roger  de  Bush.  Claron's  descendants 
assumed  the  title  Lord  of  Marcham,  and  the  name  of  the 
family  for  many  years  was  written  De  Marcham. ^  Wilham 
de  Marcham,  an  eminent  and  astute  ecclesiastic,  both  Bishop 
of  Wells  and  Lord  Treasurer  to  his  king,  Edward  I,  who  was 
recommended  by  Boniface  VIII  to  be  enrolled  in  the  calen- 
dar of  saints,^  and  "that  pattern  of  an  upright  judge,"  ^ 
Sir  John  Markham,  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the  Common 
Pleas,  who  framed  the  instrument  deposing  the  unfortunate 
Richard  II  and  who  rivals  Sir  William  Gascoigne  for  the 
honor  of  sending  the  merry  Prince  Hal  to  prison,^  are 
the  two  most  conspicuous  members  of  this  family  before 
the  sixteenth  century. 

In  the  turbulent  years  of  the  War  of  the  Roses,  the 
Markhams  were  often  of  service.  Polydore  Vergil  speaks 
at  length  of  a  certain  Sir  John,  a  brave  soldier  and  comrade 
of  the  first  Tudor.  Indeed,  the  king's  mother,  the  kindly 
Margaret,  married  her  kinswoman,  Anne  Neville,  a  descend- 
ant of  royalty,  to  his  son,  the  great-grandfather  of  Jervase. 
This  Markham,  after  the  fall  of  the  monasteries,  became 
very  powerful,  ruling  all  the  country  around  Newark,* 
and  he  held  the  responsible  position  under  Edward  VI 
of  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower.  In  spite,  however,  of  his 
prominence  he  died  "utterly  ruined."®  His  grandchildren 
included    Francis,    the    mother    of    the    ill-fated    Anthony 

1  Cf .  A  History  of  the  Markham  Family,  pp.  2  ff. 

^  Cornelius  Brown,  Lives  of  Nottingham  Worthies,     pp.  167-169. 

'  Lord  Campbell,  Lives  of  Chief  Justices. 

*  A  History  of  the  Markham  Family,  pp.  9  ff.  The  evidence  is  based 
on  the  Memoranda  of  Francis  Markham,  a  contemporary  of  Shakspere. 

'  L.  and  P.  Henry  VIII,  XIV.     (1),  295. 

*  Thoroton,  History  of  Nottinghamshire,  Vol.  I,  pp.  343  ff. 


124  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

Babington,  and  that  fair  Isabella  Markham,  the  favored 
attendant  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth  even  in  her  imprison- 
ment, who  was  lauded  and  wooed  in  several  poems  by  Sir 
John  Harrington.  She  married  this  knight,  encouraged  by 
her  royal  mistress,  who  became  the  godmother  of  their  son, 
the  wit  and  translator  of  Ariosto. 

Robert  Markham,  the  father  of  Jervase,  was  the  brother 
of  Francis  and  Isabella.  He  also  stood  high  in  the  favor  of 
the  queen  and  is  celebrated  in  that  jingle  of  her  knights  of 
Nottingham, 

Gervase  the  gentille,  Stanhope  the  stout 
Markham  the  Hon,  and  Sutton  the  lout. 

He  occupied  many  offices  of  trust,  but  the  records  tell  us 
that  he  was  also  a  "valiant  consumer  of  his  paternal  inheri- 
tance." ^  His  son  Robert,  the  eldest  brother  of  Jervase, 
also  a  "fatal  unthrift  and  Destroyer  of  this  eminent  family,"^ 
completed   the   ruin   of  the   Markham   fortunes. 

Jervase  Markham  was  the  third  son  of  this  Robert  Mark- 
ham of  Gotham,  a  small  village  not  far  from  the  historic 
city  of  Newark  in  Nottinghamshire,  and  of  his  first  wife, 
Mary,  daughter  of  Sir  Francis  Leake.  As  his  brother 
Francis  states  in  his  Memoranda  that  he  was  born  the 
25th  of  July  in  the  seventh  year  of  the  reign  of  Ehzabeth, 
one  may  assume  that  Jervase  was  born  about  1567  or  1568.' 

The  chequered  career  of  Francis,  as  told  in  his  curious 
autobiography,  is  of  interest,  because  undoubtedly  his 
younger  brother  had  many  of  the  same  advantages  in  early 
hfe  and  was  attracted  by  the  meteoric  career  of  the  venture- 

^  A  History  of  the  Markham  Family,  p.  26. 

2  Thoroton,  History  of  Nottinghamshire,  Vol.  I,  p.  344. 

^  Rev.  A.  B.  Grosart  in  his  Memorial  introduction  to  the  Tears  of 
the  Beloved,  Fuller  Worthies^  Library,  Vol.  II,  p.  466,  puts  his  birth  in 
1566;   A  History  of  the  Markham  Family,  p.  64,  puts  it  in  1568. 


THE   AUTHOR   OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      125 

some  elder  brother,  as  well  as  by  the  soldier  blood  inherited 
from  many  forefathers,  to  follow  for  years  the  profession 
of  the  soldier.     Francis  writes  in  part: 

First  brought  up  at  my  lord  of  Pembroke's,  whose  wife  was 
Catherine  daughter  of  y®  earl  of  Shrewsbury,  whose  mother  and 
his  were  cousin  germans.  Brought  up  after  10  years  with  Bilson, 
schoolmaster  of  Winchester  and  after  bishop  there.  After,  I  was 
put  to  Adrianus  de  Seraina,  at  Southampton,  a  schoolmaster,  who 
going  to  his  country,  the  Lowe  Countries,  my  lord  put  me  to  one 
Malin,  a  lowe  fellow,  schoolmaster  at  Faules.  Then,  1582,  my 
lord  put  me  to  Trinity  College  in  Cambridge,  to  my  tutor  Dr. 
Hammond,  and  allowed  me  forty  marks  per  annum.  My  tutor 
departing,  left  me  at  Dr.  Gray's.  I  contemned  him,  and  went  to 
y^  warrs.  Whereat  my  lord  was  angry  and  cut  off  my  pension. 
So  I  hved  in  disgrace,  till  I  submitted  myself  to  my  father  in  1586. 

Francis  then  studied  law  at  Gray's  Inn,  got  a  "companie 
and  was  captaine"  under  Lord  Essex  in  France,  and  later 
followed  this  versatile  favorite  in  his  disastrous  campaign 
in  Ireland.  Before  this  he  must  have  served  with  the 
military  genius  of  Elizabeth's  closing  years,  for  he  tells  us 
that  he  was  "drawne  againe  to  ye  Lowe  Countries"  with 
Sir  Francis  Vere.  His  later  life  was  one  of  reckless  adven- 
ture. Of  impecunious  but  good  family,  he  wooed  without 
success  the  fashionable  Countess  of  Derby  and  Cumberland; 
was  imprisoned  for  many  weeks  for  debt,  only  to  be  released 
by  such  noble  personages  as  ''Isabel  y*^  Countesse  of  Rutland, 
y*^  Lord  Monteigle,  y*"  Lord  Sidney,  and  Sir  Francis  Vere"; 
and  recklessly  raffled  for  a  jewel  with  ten  of  the  greatest 
ladies  of  fashion.^  At  the  end,  embittered  by  failure  and 
forgotten  by  those  he  had  served,  he  retired  to  his  native 
county  to  write  his  Booke  of  Honour.  A  vaUant  soldier, 
a  scholar  of  no  mean  attainment,  a  prose  writer  of  charm, 
and  a  courtier  truly  Ehzabethan  in  his  careless  daring  and 

1  Cf.  A  History  of  the  Markham  Family,  pp.  31  ff. 


126  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

dare-devil  enthusiasm  for  romance  and  adventure,  such  was 
Francis,  the  brother  of  Jervase  Markham. 

The  younger  brother,  undoubtedly,  possessed  to  a  large 
degree  the  careful  education,  the  varied  interests,  and 
the  joy  in  adventure  found  in  Francis  Markham.^  He, 
also,  was  by  profession  a  soldier  and  served  in  both  the  Low 
Countries  and  in  Ireland  ^  with  his  two  brothers,  Francis 
and  Godfrey.  But  he  was,  in  addition,  a  man  of  broad 
culture  and  varied  interests.  His  works  show  that  he  read 
French,  Itahan,  and  Spanish;  and  Dutch  too,  he  probably 
understood.^  His  versatihty  was  amazing.  Harte,  indeed, 
writing  a  century  later,  unkindly  called  him  the  first  English 
hackney  writer,  and  declared  that  all  subjects  seem  to  have 
been  easy  to  him  and  that  his  "thefts  were  innumerable." 
Not  only  was  Markham  the  favorite  authority  during  his 
lifetime  on  the  horse  and  horsemanship,  about  which  he 
wrote  with  all  the  spontaneous  ardor  of  the  enthusiastic 
lover,  but  his  writings  on  husbandry,  the  delights  and  tricks 
of  angling,  the  falcon,  the  tillage  of  the  soil,  the  care  of 
cattle,  recipes  for  the  housewife,  rural  occupations,  the 
pleasures  and  value  of  archery,  prominent  leaders,  heraldry, 
and  the  profession  of  arms  also  show  an  interest  in  a  diver- 
sity of  subjects  and  an  extensive  knowledge  of  them. 

Markham  dehghted  in  the  hfe  of  action.  He  took  joy 
in  the  country  in  which  he  must  have  spent  much  of  his 
busy  career,  and  the  life  and  duties  of  the  soldier  he  had 
learned  in  many  lands  in  the  stern  school  of  the  camp. 
He  aimed  at  popularity  with  an  engaging  frankness,  and  he 
attained   it.     Several   of   his   prose   works   were   reprinted 

1  Francis  in  1595  was  "iionoured  with  a  degree  in  the  university 
of  Heidelberg."     Thos.  Bailey,  Annals  of  Nottingham,  Vol.  II. 

^  History  of  the  Markham  Family,  p.  34;  Lives  of  Nottingham  Worthies, 
pp.  167  ff.,  etc. 

3  Langbaine  calls  him  a  good  scholar  and  an  excellent  linguist. 


THE    AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS    127 

many  times  during  the  seventeenth  century.  His  enthusi- 
astic assurance  was  contagious;  but  this  assumption  of 
authority  in  his  many  fields  was  not  merely  the  empty 
vainglorious  boast  of  an  unscrupulous  vender  of  other 
men's  wares. ^  "Showman  at  heart,"  he  was  one  who  must 
"  beat  his  drum  with  characteristic  flourish"^;  a  sharp  "jour- 
nahst"  who  was  an  adept  in  attracting  applause,  as  Mr.  Aldis 
writes  in  his  sympathetic  estimation.'  But  with  all  these 
frailties,  Jervase  Markham  was  so  vital,  so  vahant  in  spirit 
in  face  of  adversity,  so  buoyantly  optimistic,  so  chivalrously 
reverential  to  his  father,"*  so  tenderly  and  humbly  pious 
in  his  childUke  trust  in  his  Maker,  that  to  those  who  know 
his  curious  pamphlets  with  "their  singular  rhythmical 
charm"  of  style  and  homely  diction,^  smacking  of  the  flavor 
of  the  soil  he  urges  the  reader  to  cultivate,  he  seems  ahve; 
he  awakens  a  responsive  glow. 

Markham 's  literary  activities  were  not  confined  to  pam- 
phlets. Belles-lettres  early  attracted  him,  although  with 
modest  sincerity  he  desclaimed  to  be  any  more  than  a 
humble  worshipper  at  the  shrine  of  the  Muses.  In  his 
preface  to  the  Tears  of  the  Beloved  he  offers  to  the  "Christian 

1  Harte  speaks  of  his  many  thefts;  Hazlitt  says  he  was  an  "adept" 
in  inserting  his  name. 

*  H.  G.  Aldis,  Cambridge  History  of  Eng.  lAL,  Vol.  IV,  p.  418. 

'  Cambridge  History  of  Eng.  Lit.,  Vol.  IV,  Chap.  XII:  Writers  on 
Country  Pursuits  and  Pastimes. 

*  His  first  work,  A  Discourse  of  Horsmanshippe,  1593,  is  dedicated 
to  his  father;  and  in  a  letter  written  to  Sir  John  Markham  of  Ollerton, 
who  had  quarreled  with  his  father  and  called  Jervase  a  "lyinge  Knave," 
he  says:  "but  for  'lyinge  knave'  w*^  him  dwell  it  w''^  unjustly  gave  it 
me,  and  doe  but  name  hym  that  will  in  equal  place  so  name  me,  and  I 
will  eyther  give  my  soul  to  god  or  thrust  y®  lyinge  knave  unto  hys 
bossome.  S''  imagin  me  as  you  wTyte  me  to  be  trulye  my  father's 
Sonne,  so  have  I  trulye  a  feelinge  of  my  father's  indignities."  Lam- 
beth Shrewsbury  Papers    (709,   p.    65). 

5  Aldis,  p.  425. 


128  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Reader"  the  fruits  of  "my  harsh  and  untuned  Muse," 
and  he  speaks  of  his  talent  as  "slender  and  simple."  Again, 
in  a  letter  to  an  irascible  kinsman,  who  had  called  him  "a 
poetycall  lyinge  knave,"  he  rephes:  "For  my  love  to  poesye 
if  it  be  an  error,  I  confess  my  selfe  faultye,  and  have  w'^  as 
greate  hartynes  as  ever  I  grieved  for  any  sinne  comytted 
gaynst  the  hyest,  mourned  for  myne  howers  mispent  in  y^ 
feather-Hght  studye,  yet  can  I  name  many  noble  person- 
ages who  w**"  greater  desyer,  and  more  fervencie  have 
cortynued  and  boasted  in  y^  humor,  w*^^  thoughe  in  others 
it  be  excellent,  in  my  selfe  I  loathe  and  utterlye  abhorr  it."' 

In  the  same  year  that  A  Discourse  of  Horsmanshippe 
appeared,^  the  Stationers'  Register  mentions  a  Thyrsis  and 
Daphne,^  now  lost,  but  undoubtedly,  as  Mr.  Fleay  con- 
jectured, "an  amatory  poem"  similar  in  treatment  to 
Venus  and  Adonis."^  This  was  followed  two  years  later  by 
his  popular  Honorable  Tragedie  of  Sir  Richard  Grinvile 
Knight,  a  tedious,  halting  story  in  verse,  burdened  with 
■classical  allusions  and  conceits,  of  the  gallant  fight  against 
Spain,  and  by  his  rehgious  Poem  of  Poems,  or  Sions  muse. 

In  addition  to  these  and  later  original  poems,^  he  trans- 
lated from  the  French  of  Desportes  ^  and  of  Madame  Gene- 
vieve Petau  Maulette,^  and  probably  from  the  Italian.* 
He  also  continued,  most  prosaically,''  Sidney's  Arcadia. 

1  Lambeth  Shrewsbury  Papers  (709,  p.  65). 

2  1593. 

3  April  23,  1593. 

■•  Fleay,  Biographical  Chronicle  of  the  English  Stage,  p.  5S. 

s  The  Tears  of  the  Beloved,  1600;    Marie  Magdalene's  Lamentations, 

1601. 

6  Rodmouth's  I nf email,  or  the  Diuell  conquered,  1608;  the  first  edi- 
tion was  in  1598. 

'  Devoreux's  Vertues  Tears,  1597-8. 

*  The  Famous  Whore,  or  The  Noble  Curtizan,  1609. 

9  The  English  Arcadia,  1607,  and  The  Second  and  Last  Part  of  the 
First  Book  of  the  English  Arcadia,  1613. 


THE    AUTHOR   OF   THE   NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS     129 

The  stage,  also,  naturally  attracted  Markham;  a  comedy, 
The  Dumbe  Knight,'^  and  a  tragedy,  Herod  and  Antipater,'^ 
are  additional  evidence  of  his  industry  and  popularity. 
The  former,  drawn  in  the  main  from  Bandello,'  is  not  without 
merit.  Mr.  Fleay,  with  that  vision  that  has  often  helped 
to  solve  many  problems  of  the  Elizabethan  period,  assigned, 
I  believe  correctly,  the  humorous,  satirical  underplot,  com- 
prising the  story  of  the  miserly  Prate,  his  silly  wife  Lollia, 
the  bawd  Collaquintida,  the  obscene  clerk  President,  the 
blunt  soldier  lover  Alphonso,  and  other  minor  characters 
to  Markham.^  The  fun  in  this  plaj'  is  not  of  the  finest  or 
of  the  cleanest,  but  jMarkham  shows  genuine  ability  in 
creating  character  by  a  few  impressionistic  touches,  and  he 
is  not  lacking  a  certain  lively  animation  and  a  good-natured 
cynicism  which  help  to  raise  his  scenes  above  mediocrity  and 
often  furnish  real  diversion. 

And  so  we  can  appreciate  to  a  degree  the  indefatigable 
industry  of  Jervase  Markham,  an  industry  which  apparently 
rejected  nothing  that  his  popularity  would  sell  and  which 
did  not  hesitate  to  repeat  even  verbatim,  with  an  impudent 
but  ingenuous  assurance,  what  he  had  before  offered  to  a 
guileless  public.^  Travail  of  authorship  caused  him  little 
labor.  With  a  capacious  memory,  stored  with  a  motley 
wealth  of  classical  and  medieval  learning  drawn  from  many 

'  1608.  Lewis  Machin  collaborated  in  this  play.  It  is  published  in 
Dodsley's  Old  Plays,  Vol.  IV,  1780  edition. 

^  1622.  It  was  acted  several  times  before  publication.  William 
Sampson  collaborated. 

^  Langbaine  first  mentioned  the  source. 

*  Fleay,  Biographical  Chronicle,  Vol.  II,  p.  58. 

*  This  undoubtedly  led  to  the  famous  entry  in  the  Stationers'  Register 
signed  by  Markham  to  write  no  more  books  and  cause  "bookes  to  be 
printed  of  the  Descases  or  cures  of  any  Cattle,  as  Horse,  Oxe,  Cowe, 
Sheepe,  Swine  and  Goates."  Cf.  Arber,  Transcript  of  the  Stationers' 
Register,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  317. 


130  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

storehouses,  and  aided  by  a  keen  power  of  observation 
and  a  quaint  fund  of  popular  lore,  he  valiantly  entered  the 
lists  of  authorship  with  the  contemporary  giants  and  was 
not  driven  from  the  field  discreditably.  Though  Jonson, 
arrogant  in  a  real  superiority,  may  tell  Drummond  that 
Markham  "was  not  of  the  number  of  the  faithful  [i.e. 
Poets],  and  but  a  base  fellow,"  ^  and  the  youthful  Hall 
may  jeer  at  the  "  Ink-hornisms "  and  "  hght-skirts "  of 
"the  holy  spouse  of  Christ"  in  the  Song  of  Solomon,^  still 
even  in  his  youth  Markham  was  not  despised.  Meres  and 
Bodenham  mention  him;^  Guilpin  writes  that  though  he 
is  "censur'd  for  his  want  of  plot,"  still  "his  Subject's  rich," 
and  that  "his  Muse  soares  a  falcons  gallant  pitch";*  and 
again,  England's  Parnassus  has  as  many  as  forty-seven 
quotations  attributed  to  Marldiam,  a  convincing  sign  of  his 
popularity  as  a  poet.^ 

The  tests  which  we  appHed  to  Marston  concerning  the 
authorship  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  are  most  significant 
when  Markham  is  considered.  They  lead,  indeed,  taken 
in  conjunction  with  several  additional  points  to  be  advanced 
later,  to  the  conviction  that  Jervase  Markham  planned  to 
capture  public  fancy  in  a  new  field.  We  have  seen,  to 
enumerate  again,  that  the  author  of  this  manuscript  signed 
himself  J.  M.  gent,  that  his  name  was  French,  although  his 

^  Ben  Jonson's  Conversations  with  William  Drummond,  ed.  by 
David  Laing,  Shakespeare  Society  Publication,  8-10,  p.  xi. 

^  Hall,  Virgidemiarum,  Lib.  I,  Sat.  VIII. 

3  Meres,  Palladis  Tamia,  New  Shakspere  Society,  Series  4,  I,  p.  163; 
Bodenham,  Belvedere  or  The  Garden  of  the  Muses,  Spenser  Society, 
Vol.  17,  in  the  address  to  the  Reader. 

*  Guilpin,  Skialetheia,  Satyre  VI,  ed.  Grosart,  Occasional  Issues, 
Vol.  VI,  p.  63. 

6  England's  Parnassus,  ed.  Charles  Crawford.  Mr.  Crawford  says 
that  twenty-two  of  Markham's  quotations  have  been  traced;  twenty- 
five  are  untraced.     Cf.  p.  xliii. 


THE   AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      131 

family  did  not  come  in  with  the  Conqueror;  that  he  was  a 
soldier,  serving  at  Cadiz,  and  also  in  Ireland  and  Flanders; 
that  he  was  in  sympathy  with  the  Puritans;  that  he  was  an 
admirer  of  the  ill-starred  Essex;  that  he  was  a  man  familiar 
with  the  country  pursuits;  that  he  loved  trees,  flowers, 
herbs,  and  possessed  a  fund  of  quaint  learning  in  regard  to 
their  practical  uses;  that  he  was  a  man  of  wide  reading  and 
culture,  expressing  a  preference  for  Cambridge;  that  he  had 
even  before  this  work  written  poetry;  that  he  was  devoted 
to  his  father;  that  he  lived  on  the  "outmost  side"  of  the 
East  Angles;  and  that  he  possessed  a  homely,  vernacular 
style. 

During  Markham's  lifetime  we  find  his  name,  Jervase, 
spelled  in  various  ways.  The  Stationers'  Register,  when  it 
gives  the  author  of  the  newly  licensed  work,  frequently 
refers  to  him  as  J.  M.,  I.  M.,  or  Jervis  Markham.^  Many  of 
his  works,  when  published,  printed  his  Christian  name  be- 
ginning with  a  J.  or  an  I.,  the  latter  in  the  EHzabethan 
period  often  being  used  in  place  of  the  capital  J.  His  first 
extant  work,^  A  Discourse  of  Horsnianshippe,  has  its  dedi- 
cation to  his  father  signed  Jervas  Markham.  Again, 
Sir  Richard  Grinvile  Knight  has  some  of  its  prefatory  son- 
nets signed  /.  M.,  but  its  dedication  to  "lord  Montioy" 
has  Markham's  name  at  length  commencing  with  a  J. 
Devoreux  or  Vertues  Teares,^  Teares  of  the  Beloved^  some 
copies  of  The  Dumbe  Knight,^  and  the  forty-seven  quotations 
in  England's  Parnassus,  assigned  to  Markham,  are  all 
signed  with  the  Christian  name  commencing  with  a  J.  or 

1  Examples:   22  May,  1613;   25  June,  1619. 

2  1593. 

3  1597. 

*  1600.  Cf.  the  original  title-page  in  Grosart,  Fuller  Worthies'  Li- 
brary, Vol.  II,  p.  490. 

^  Cf.  Fleay,  Biographical  Chronicle  of  the  English  Stage,  Vol.  II, 
p.  58. 


132  THE  NETV^   METAMORPHOSIS 

with  the  initial  J.  or  I.^  The  entry  of  his  burial  in  the 
Register  of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  is  conclusive  proof  that 
the  J.  was  frequently  and  authoritatively  used.  The 
burial  entry  reads,  "1636/7  Feb.  3.  Jarvis  Markham, 
gent."  2 

An  entry  in  the  Stationers'  Register  ^  promising  to  cease 
writing  treatises  on  specified  subjects,  and  a  letter  written 
in  support  of  his  father  in  a  family  contention  *  are  both 
signed  Gends.  But  in  these  two  instances  the  name  is 
printed,  and  IVIarkham,  a  penman  of  no  mean  skill,  fond  of 
ornamental  flourishes,  possibly  took  more  pleasure  in  print- 
ing the  capital  G  with  its  possibihties  of  ornamentation  than 
the  simple  J.  or  I.  It  may  also  be  of  interest  to  state  at  this 
point  that  the  printed  capital  G  in  both  these  documents 
can  be  found  many  times  with  all  its  peculiarities  in  The  Newe 
Metamorphosis  where  a  capital  G  is  used.^  It  is  also  a 
matter  of  some  significance  that  the  Christian  name  of 
Chaucer  is  spelt  in  this  manuscript  commencing  with  a  J.^ 

The  title  "gent"  we  have  seen  used  in  his  burial  entry. 
It  is  also  found  in  the  entry  just  mentioned  in  the  Stationers* 
Register  and  in  some  of  the  dedications  to  his  works.  Mark- 
ham  was  of  an  eminent  family  and  had  the  right  to  use  the 
title  "gentleman."     Indeed,  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  sev- 

1  I  have  not  been  able  to  verify  some  of  the  above  statements  con- 
cerning the'spelling  of  his  Christian  name  because  of  the  dearth  of  Mark- 
ham  material  in  this  country  and  the  difficuhy  of  communicating 
with  England  during  the  war.  I  base  some  of  my  statements  on  ma- 
terial found  in  Warton,  History  of  the  English  People,  Vol.  IV,  p.  113, 
note  k;   J.  Payne  ColUer;   Fleay,  etc. 

2  Cf.  Grosart,  Fuller  Worthies'  Library,  Vol.  II,  p.  485. 
2  Cf.  Arber's  Transcript,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  317. 

*  Lambeth  Shrewsbury  Papers  (709,  p.  65). 

5  At  this  period  formation  of  letters  and  spelling  of  words  present 
many  difficulties.  In  the  manuscript  under  discussion  we  have  two 
very  dissimilar  capital  G's,  M's,  J's,  etc.,  often  used  on  the  same  page. 

«  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  90  verso. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      133 

eral  times  expresses  with  much  bitterness  the  author's 
contempt  for  the  "new  rich"  of  his  period,  and  he  attacks 
at  length  the  practice  of  King  James  to  sell  to  any  one  with 
the  money  to  pay  the  fee  the  title  of  gentleman  or  knight- 
hood. ^ 

Since  J.  M.  gent,  could  easily  refer  to  Jervase  Markham, 
the  next  point  to  consider  in  the  search  for  the  author  is  the 
couplet  written  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  and  having  no 
connection  with  the  poem  itself, 

"My  name  is  Frenche,  to  tell  yo"  in  a  worde 

Yet  came  not  in  with  Conqueringe  William's  sworde." 

These  words,  as  we  have  seen,^  have  caused  the  few  who 
have  glanced  at  this  work  much  confusion;  indeed,  it  was 
these  two  lines  that  deterred  Mr.  HalHwell-Phinipps,  and 
probably  Mr.  Grosart  and  Mr.  Bullen,  from  attributing 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis  definitely  to  John  Marston. 

This  couplet  was  evidently  jotted  down  as  an  after- 
thought. On  the  same  folio  the  author  addresses  his 
"Booke,"  and  directly  above  these  two  verses  is  the  begin- 
ning of  "The  Epistle  dedicatorie."  J.  M.  knew,  without 
doubt,  that  his  initials,  J.  M.,  would  tell  his  public  the 
identity  of  the  author.  If  J.  M.  were  Markham,  he  had 
already,  even  before  1600,  won  an  enviable  place  for  popu- 
larity among  his  contemporaries.  If  the  title-page  were 
written  in  1615,  the  time  of  the  completion  of  the  manuscript 
from  internal  evidence,  he  occupied  even  a  more  assured 
position  among  those  vending  their  wares  among  the  various 
publishers.^     The  author,   in  this  instance,  was  indulging 

^  Examples  of  this  are  Vol.  II,  Book  IV,  fos.  71  verso  ff.,  and 
Book  VII,  fos.  262  verso  ff. 

2  Chap.  II. 

'  The  date  1600  on  the  two  title-pages  and  the  crossing  out  and 
rewriting  of  parts  of  these  pages  make  it  probable  that  they  were 
written  in  1600. 


134  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

in  a  bit  of  pleasantry  with  his  future  readers.  He  possessed, 
as  we  know,  a  fund  of  happy  humor;  he  took  delight  in 
indulging  in  a  httle  innocent  raillery  concerning  his  French 
name,  Gervase.  He  undoubtedly  alluded  to  the  French- 
English  combination  in  his  name  in  much  the  same  spirit  as 
Matthew  Arnold,  who  also  occasioned  confusion  to  some  too 
careful  commentators,  spoke  of  the  "  Semetico-Saxon " 
mixture  of  his.^     In  both  cases  the  reference  is  obvious. 

In  addition,  this  short  couplet  smacks  of  an  honest  pride 
in  family;  it  tells  of  the  origin  of  the  Markhams.  We 
have  seen  how  Claron,  their  ancestor,  was  a  follower  of 
Edward  the  Confessor,  but  how,  in  spite  of  the  Conquest, 
he  kept  part  of  his  lands  in  West  and  East  Markham  in 
Nottingham  under  the  Norman  retainer  of  William,  Roger 
de  Bush.  His  descendants  took  pride  in  their  antiquity, 
and  both  the  brother  of  Jervase  and  the  later  writers  of  the 
family  genealogy  mention  conspicuously  this  fact  of  ante- 
dating the  Conqueror.2 

There  is  some  possibility,  however,  that  Jervase  Markham 
may  have  referred  in  this  couplet  to  the  fact  that  the  early 
ancestors  of  his  family  had  called  themselves  Lords  of  Marc- 
ham  and  had  written  their  name  De  Marcham  for  many 
generations.  Personally,  I  feel  the  first  explanation  con- 
cerning his  name  Jervase  being  French  in  origin  is  the  more 
plausible  and  is  sufficient. 

The  next  point  to  be  considered  is  the  fact  that  J.  M. 
gent,  was  a  soldier,  serving  his  queen  in  Ireland,  in  Flanders, 
and  in  the  expeditions  against  Spain  in   1596  and  1597.^ 

^  Cf.  Arnold,  Study  of  Celtic  Literature,  and  Notes  and  Queries, 
9  Series,  No.  7,  p.  77;  Vol.  VI,  pp.  466,  491,  513. 

^  Francis  Markham,  Genealogy  or  Petigre  of  the  Markhams;  D.  F. 
Markham,  A  History  of  the  Markham  Family;  Sir  C.  Markham, 
Markham  Memorials. 

3  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  pp.  73  ff. 


THE    AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS    135 

That  Markham  was  a  soldier,  we  know;  that  he  served  in 
Ireland  and  in  Flanders  is  a  matter  of  record.^  It  is  most 
significant,  however,  that  in  Ireland  he  was  stationed  in 
Connaught.  Sir  John  Harrington,  his  courtier-cousin  and 
the  godson  of  EHzabeth,  who  served  under  Essex  and  was 
knighted  by  him  in  the  campaign  against  Tyrone,  writes 
to  a  friend  that  when  the  English  forces  in  Ireland  were 
divided,  some  were  sent  to  Munster,  "some  to  Lesly,  many 
into  the  North  and  a  few  into  Connoght;  it  was  partly  my 
hap,  and  partly  my  choice,  for  Sir  Griffin  Markham's^  sake, 
and  three  Markhams  more  to  go  into  Connoght"^;  and 
later  he  adds  that  the  "three  sons  of  my  cousin  Robert 
Markham  of  Cottam  have  in  their  several  kinds  and  places 
offered  me  such  courtesies,  kindnesses,  nay  such  services, 
as  if  they  held  me  for  one  of  their  best  friends  in  Ireland."* 

When  it  is  recalled  that  J.  M.  also  tells  the  reader  he 
served  in  Connaught,  that  he  frequently  refers  to  its  wild 
kerns  and  its  scenery,  that  he  places  several  of  his  stories 
in  this  environment,  even  relating  how  Galway,  its  principal 
town,  was  founded,^  there  seems  to  be  some  reason  to  assume 
that  he  was  Markham. 

In  addition  to  serving  in  Ireland  and  Flanders,  J.  M., 
as  we  have  seen,  took  part  in  the  storming  of  Cadiz.  In- 
deed, he  describes  at  length  that  expedition.  No  mention 
has  been  made  of  Markham  taking  part  in  this  adventure. 
We  know  from  contemporary  records  how  it  attracted  the 
plumed  and  ruffled  courtier,  the  reckless  man  of  fortune, 

^  Markham,  A  History  of  the  Markham  Family,  p.  34;  Cornelius 
Brown,  Lives  of  Nottingham  Worthies,  pp.  167-169,  etc. 

^  A  cousin  to  Jervase  and  later  implicated  in  the  Bye  Plot.  He  was 
a  colonel  of  horse  in  this  expedition. 

'  Harrington,  Nugae  Antiquae,  Vol.  I,  pp.  253-254. 

^  Ibid.,  Vol.  I,  p.  260.  The  brothers  were  Francis,  Jervis,  and 
Godfrey. 

'  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  pp.  76  ff. 


136  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

and,  indeed,  many  of  those  who  looked  for  glory  and  hazard 
under  the  inspiring  leadership  of  the  Howards,  Vere,  Ralegh, 
and  Essex.  Sir  Francis  Vere  brought  a  thousand  veterans 
from  Flanders  to  help  the  English  arms,^  and  Jervase  Mark- 
ham,  who  had  been  serving  under  him,  may  have  been  one  of 
these;  or  like  his  great  contemporary,  Donne,  he  may  have 
been  among  those  many  ''most  worthy  knights  and  gentle- 
men of  great  worth  "^  who,  craving  excitement  in  those 
"spacious  days,"  sought  it  against  the  Spaniard. 

But  Markham  has  left  us  record  in  his  prose  works  that 
he  had  visited  both  Spain  and  the  Azores.  Spain,  even 
after  the  treaty  of  peace  in  1604,  was  not  a  safe  place  for 
English  travelers,  who  frequently  fell  victim  to  the  Inqui- 
sition,^ and  only  in  rare  instances  did  a  Protestant  from  the 
despised  British  Isles  venture  to  hazard  the  danger.  Con- 
sequently, it  can  be  advanced  with  a  degree  of  certainty  that 
when  Markham,  a  professional  soldier,  serving  under  both 
Essex  and  Vere,  tells  his  readers  "I  have  for  mine  own  part 
seen  in  the  Island  of  Azores,  certain  very  large  caves,  or 
pits  made  under  the  earth  ...  for  mine  own  part,  I  my 
self  digged  up  many  of  these  pits  " ''  in  order  to  see  how  corn  is 
preserved;  that  "I  my  self  observed  both  in  Spain  and  in 
the  neighboring  Islands"^  the  growing  of  lentils;  and  how 
goats  are  preserved  in  Spain  and  the  Island  of  Azores  "for 
the  chase  and  hunting,"  ^  he  probably  followed  his  leaders 
in  the  expedition  against  Cadiz  and  the  Azores,  and  in  this 

1  C.  R.  Markham,  The  Fighting  Veres,  p.  218.  Sir  William  Monson 
says  that  "one  thousand  of  the  prime  soldiers  of  the  Low  Countries 
followed  Vere  in  the  Azores  expedition.  Cf.  Churchill,  A  Collection  of 
Voyages  and  Travels,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  172." 

2  Hakluyt's  Voyages,  London,  1810  ed.,  Vol.  II,  p.  19. 

3  J.  G.  Montague,  History  of  England,  1603-1660,  p.  53. 

"•  Markham's  His  Farewel  to  Husbandry,  London,  1684,  pp.  90-91. 

5  Ibid.,  p.  98. 

^  Markham,  Cheap  and  Good  Husbandry,  p.  96. 


THE    AUTHOR   OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      137 

way  observed  those  customs  which  he  later  spoke  of  in  his 
several  pamphlets. 

And  so  J.  M.,  the  soldier,  serving  in  Spain,  Ireland,  and 
Flanders,  may  well  be  Jervase  Markham,  soldier,  adven- 
turer, and  scholar,  following  the  fortunes  of  war  in  the  same 
lands. 

It  has  also  been  shown  that  /.  M.  was  a  Puritan  or,  at 
least,  had  sympathy  for  that  rapidly  growing  and  harshly 
lampooned  sect,^  and  that  frequently  in  The  Newe  Metamor- 
phosis he  not  only  defends  the  sober  descendants  of  Martin 
Marprelate,  but  he  also  surprises  the  reader  of  some  of  his 
flagrantly  obscene  stories  by  his  devout  and  childhke  faith 
in  God.  INIarkham,  also,  is  conspicuous  for  a  tranquil, 
quaint  piety,  so  refreshing  and  simple  that  it  lends  much 
charm  to  his  counsels  to  the  horseman,  the  farrier,  the 
housewife,  the  angler,  and  all  the  varied  company  whom  he 
addresses.  Even  the  "Labourer"  in  the  most  humble 
of  field  work  is  directed  "to  go  about  all  with  prayer  and 
composedness  of  spirit."  ^  Examples  of  this  quiet  faith 
are  legion.  In  one  of  his  happiest  pamphlets,^  in  speaking 
of  angling,  he  says  the  sport  which  is  the  "most  comely, 
most  honest,  and  giveth  the  most  hberty  to  Divine  Medi- 
tations and  that  without  all  question  is  the  art  of  Angling 
which  having  ever  been  most  hurtlessly  necessary,  hath  been 
the  sport  of  Recreation  of  Gods  Saints,  of  most  holy  fathers, 
and  of  many  worthy  and  Reverend  Divines,  both  dead,  and 
at  this  tune  breathing."  A  little  later  he  writes  that  "Dice- 
play,  Cards,  Bowls,  or  any  other  sport  where  money  is  the 
goal  to  which  men's  minds  are  directed,  what  can  mans 
avarice  there  be  accounted  other  then  a  familhar  Robbery, 
each  seeing  by  deceit  to  couzen  and  spoyl  others  of  the  bUss 

1  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  pp.  83  ff. 

2  Grosart,  Fuller  Worthies',  Vol.  II,  p.  469. 
'  Country  Contentments,  1683  ed.,  pp.  47  ff. 


138  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

of  means  which  God  hath  bestowed  to  support  them  and 
their  famiUes."  ^  Again,  in  speaking  of  the  "inward  quah- 
ties"  of  a  good  angler,  he  saya  that  in  order  to  remove 
"melancholy,  heaviness  of  his  thoughts,  or  the  pertur- 
bations of  his  own  fancies"  he  should  sing  "some  godly 
Hymn  or  Anthem,  of  which  David  gives  him  ample  ex- 
amples." ^  The  angler  must  also  "ever  think  where  the 
waters  are  pleasant,  and  anything  Hkely,  that  there  the 
Creator  of  all  good  things  hath  stored  up  much  of  plenty." 
Again  in  his  The  English  House-wife,  Markham  tells  the 
reader  that  the  "Mother  and  Mistress  of  the  family"  must 
above  all  things  "be  of  upright  and  sincere  Religion,  and  in 
the  same  both  zealous  and  constant  ...  to  utter  forth  by 
the  instruction  of  her  Ufe,  those  fruits  of  good  hving,  which 
shall  be  pleasing  both  to  God  and  his  Creatures.  .  .  . 
But  let  your  English  House-wife  be  a  godly,  constant,  and 
religious  woman,  learning  from  the  worthy  Preacher,  and 
her  Husband,  those  good  examples  which  she  shall  with  all 
careful  diligence  see  exercised  amongst  her  Servants,  .  .  . 
a  small  time,  morning  and  evening,  bestowed  in  prayers, 
and  other  exercises  of  Religion  will  prove  no  lost  time  at 
the  weeks  end."  ^ 

Surely  in  these  words  speaks  a  devout  man,  one  who 
carries  his  belief  in  his  Maker  into  his  daily  activities. 
He  may  not  be  a  Puritan ;  but  at  least  it  is  probable  he  was 
in  sympathy  with  their  earnest  faith  and  resented  the  unjust 
attacks  on  them. 

This  tone  of  unaffected  piety  colors  even  his  early  poetry; 
The  poem  of  Poems,  or  Sions  Muse,  The  Teares  of  the  Beloved, 
and  Marie  Magdalen^s  Lamentaiions  show  this  interest  in 
reUgion.     The  conclusion  to  his  words  "To  the  Christian 

1  Country  Contentments,  p.  48. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  60. 

^  The  English  House-wife,  p.  2. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS      139 

Reader,"  prefacing  The  Teares  of  the  Beloved,  is  of  interest 
in  this  connection.  Markham  writes,  "The  Highest  con- 
tinue His  favors  and  graces  unto  His  Church,  and  shield  us 
in  these  dangerous  dayes  from  His  and  our  enemies,  Amen."  ^ 
He  wrote  these  words  in  1600  when  England,  especially 
puritan  England,  feared  a  return  to  Roman  CathoUcism. 
Elizabeth,  old  and  feeble,  was  more  than  ever  the  center  of 
intrigue;  Essex,  his  campaign  in  Ireland  a  failure,  threat- 
ened open  rebelHon;  Spain  seemed  planning  another  attempt 
at  invasion,  and,  aided  ahnost  openly  by  papists  in  England, 
was  aiming  to  keep  the  succession  from  the  Protestant 
James.  Indeed,  so  fearful  were  the  Puritans  of  this  that  at 
the  queen's  death  in  1603  they  embarked  in  boats  to  prevent 
a  popish  invasion  from  Flanders.^ 

And  Markham  also  resembles  J.  M.  in  the  intermingling 
of  ribald  jest  and  coarse  tales  with  earnest  attacks  on  social 
and  moral  abuses.  He  can  turn  with  zest  from  religious 
poetry  and  expressions  of  faith  in  God  to  the  calculating 
cynicism  of  the  bawd,  Collaquintido,  and  the  revolting 
filth  of  the  clerk.  President.^  The  attacks  on  swearing, 
gambling,  excessive  drinking,  disrespect  to  parents  in  juxta- 
position to  licentious  tales  are  found  so  frequently  in  both 
the  manuscript  and  in  his  accepted  works  that  even  to  the 
casual  reader  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  seems  to  resemble 
the  work  of  Markham. 

J.  M.'s  devotion  to  Essex  is  also  connected  with  his 
attitude  toward  the  Puritans,  since  Essex  was  the  accepted 
leader  of  this  party  and  the  most  bitter  and  relentless  op- 
ponent of  Spain,  It  was  Essex  who  for  several  years  kept 
in  secret  communication  with  the  young  king  of  Scotland, 
fostering  his  succession  in  England.     J.  M.,  as  we  have  seen, 

1  Grosart,  Fuller  Worthies',  Vol.  II,  p.  492. 
^  Trevelyan,  England  under  the  Stuarts,  p.  75. 
'  The  Dumbe  Knight. 


140  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

praised  Essex  ^  in  the  strongest  terms,  denying  that  he  was 
a  traitor,  even  in  spite  of  the  court's  disapproval  of  any 
mention  of  the  ill-starred  favorite."^  But  Markham,  if  he 
were  J.  M.,  had  even  additional  reasons  to  express  this 
admiration.  As  we  know,  he  had  served  under  Essex  in 
Ireland  and  had  possibly  fought  with  him  in  France.^  He 
translated  from  the  French  Devoreux  or  Vertues  Teares,  a 
lament  for  Walter  Devoreux,  the  brilliant  younger  brother 
of  Essex;  he  dedicated  Sions  Muse  to  Essex'  stepdaughter, 
the  child  of  Sidney;  and  later  in  life  he  included  Essex  in 
his  Honour  in  his  Perfection,'^  together  with  his  friend  and 
comrade,  the  Earl  of  Southampton.  He  had  many  reasons 
to  praise  the  brilliant  Essex,  indeed,  to  be  grateful  to  him. 
He  paid  his  debt  in  the  only  way  in  his  power.  This  loyalty 
to  Essex,  found  in  both  the  work  of  Markham  and  in  the 
manuscript,  strengthens  the  belief  that  Markham  was  /.  M. 
The  next  point  to  be  considered  scarcely  needs  discussion. 
J.  M.  knew  the  country  and  its  pursuits,  and  he  loved  trees, 
flowers,  and  herbs,  possessing  a  fund  of  quaint  learning  con- 
cerning their  practical  uses.^  He  was  a  lover  of  the  out-of- 
doors,  a  man  of  abounding  vitaUty  and  with  a  catholicity 
of  interests,  especially  in  rural  affairs.  Markham,  as  we 
know,  gained  his  reputation  and  probably  earned  his  liveli- 
hood because  of  his  intimate  knowledge  of  country  life. 
His  amazing  number  of  treatises  on  the  horse,  his  pamphlets 
on  husbandry,  his  works  on  country  recreations,  cures  for 

1  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  pp.  87  ff. 

2  The  disapproval  of  Essex  continued  for  several  years  after  his 
execution.  Daniels'  Philotas  was  suppressed  in  1606  because  of  its 
commendation  of  Essex.  The  passage  written  by  J.  M.  comes  in 
what  seems  to  be  early  work. 

^  Francis  Markham  tells  us  in  his  Memorials  of  his  receiving  a 
captaincy  from  Essex  in  France. 
'  1624. 
6  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  pp.  88  ff. 


THE    AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      141 

cattle  and  recipes  for  the  housewife  are  well  known.  The 
significant  fact  is  that  J.  M.  possesses  the  same  wealth  of 
information  and  the  same  kind  of  information.  Mark- 
ham's  charming  advice  to  the  angler,^  that  he  "ought  to  be 
a  general  SchoUer,  and  seen  in  all  the  Liberal  Sciences," 
is  not  only  loosely  paraphrased  by  that  most  delightful  of 
all  fishermen,  the  gentle  Walton,  but  also  in  the  playful 
lines  already  quoted  from  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  in  which 
the  rude  Martin  is  told, 

ffishing's  an  Arte.^ 

And  there  are  innumerable  instances  of  this  kind.  J.  M.'s 
frequent  lists  of  incentives  for  lust  ^  are  found  almost  paral- 
leled in  President's  recommendations  to  the  miserly  Prate.'* 
Markham  ^  tells  his  reader  to  use  "chast  thoughts"  in  June; 
in  July  to  shun  "Wine,  Women"  and  all  "wantonness"; 
and  in  August  to  beware  of  "feasts"  and  all  excitement. 
J.  M.  warns  us  that  three  months  after  May  "faire  Venus 
is  forbid  to  play."''  The  fondness  for  flowers  and  herbs  and 
their  uses,''  the  pleasure  in  animals,  the  interest  in  tillage, 
the  delight  in  quaint  lore  found  so  abundantly  in  the  manu- 
script, all  add  to  the  conviction  that  Markliam  is  the  author 
of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis. 

The  fact  that  J.  M.  was  a  man  of  wide  reading,  that  he 
knew  many  languages,  referring  to  books  in  French,  Italian, 
Latin,  and  Spanish,^  is  true  not  only  of  Markham  but  also 
of  many  of  his  contemporaries.     The  reference,  however, 

1  Country  Contentments,  p.  60. 

2  Cf.  Chap.  HI,  p.  9.3. 

3  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  p.  98. 

*  The  Dumbe  Knight,  p.  427.     Dodsley,  Old  Plays,  1780. 

6  Fareivel  to  Husbandry,  1684,  pp.  123  ff. 
8  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fol.  10. 

7  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  pp.  95  ff. 

8  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  p.  102. 


142  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

to  many  names,  especially  of  writers  of  former  centuries,  so 
common  in  the  manuscript  and  in  the  accredited  works  of 
Markham,  is  of  significance;  for  this  assumption  of  authority 
based  on  extensive  consultation  of  sources  is  typical  of  the 
work  of  both  J.  M.  and  of  Markham.  In  The  Newe  Meta- 
morphosis frequent  references  are  made  to  classical  authors, 
to  writers  of  chronicles,  and  especially  to  Church  authorities, 
but  sources  for  the  more  popular  material  are  not  mentioned. 
This  same  thing  is  true  of  Markham.  He  is  a  clever  and  at 
times  an  unscrupulous  pilferer  of  other  men's  work;  but  he 
is  also  most  ready  to  concede  that  he  has  a  source,  especially 
if  such  a  concession  might  make  his  wares  of  more  import- 
ance. Pliny,  as  also  in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  is  often 
referred  to  in  the  pamphlets,  and  other  classical  authors 
are  mentioned.^  Former  writers  on  agricultural  subjects 
are  frequently  named.  In  the  space  of  a  page,  in  a  treatise 
of  how  to  enrich  the  soil,-  he  refers  to  Sir  Walter  Henly,  a 
former  authority  on  husbandry,  and  quotes  in  Latin  from 
Columella.  The  title-page  to  his  Maison  rustique,  or  The 
Country  farme,^  is  characteristic ;  he  tells  the  reader  that  it 
was  first  "compiled  in  the  French  tongue  by  C.  Stevens 
and  J.  Liebault,"  but  that  it  is  "now  new  revised,  cor- 
rected, and  augmented  .  .  .  out  of  the  works  of  Serres,  his 
Agriculture,  Vinet,  his  Maison  Champestre  .  .  .  Allyterio 
.  .  .  Grillo  .  .  .  and  other  authors."  Truly  this  is  an  im- 
posing list  of  names.  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian  are  im- 
partially included  to  impress  the  buyer  with  Markham's 
mastery  of  his  subject. 
When  we  turn   to   The  Newe  Metamorphosis  *  we  meet 

1  Example:  The  Inrichment  of  the  Weald  of  Kent,  pp.  6,  12,  1683 
edition. 

2  Ibid.,  pp.  9-10.  3  1616. 

'  Cf.  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  Book  X,  and  Vol.  II,  Book  X.  The  long  list  of 
authors  and  of  books  concerning  the  Church  in  Vol.  II,  fos.  53  verso  ff., 
is  an  admirable  example. 


THE   AUTHOR    OF   THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS      143 

again  this  pleasure,  scarcely  unctuous  because  it  is  so  naive, 
of  displaying  an  acquaintance  with  a  remarkable  variety 
of  sources  drawn  from  many  lands.  J.  M.  speaks  with  the 
same  tone  of  authority;  he  demands  from  his  reader  the 
same  admiration  for  his  infallibility  in  his  field;  he  over- 
whelms his  audience.  As  the  "barker"  of  to-day  forces 
at  least  a  grudging  attention  from  the  passer-by  and  often 
wheedles  even  from  the  wary  a  coin  or  two,  so  J.  M.,  like 
Markham,  compels  attention  and  a  certain  unwilhng  respect 
by  his  clever  marshaling  of  pretentious  names. 

Then,  too,  the  fact  that  /.  M.  speaks  of  Cambridge  as 
England's  "most  famous  University"  and  mentions  only 
three  of  its  colleges,  Trinity,  St.  John's,  and  Queen's  Chapel,^ 
is  interesting  in  connection  with  what  we  know  of  Markham. 
Markham's  home  was  not  many  miles  north  of  the  great 
university,  and  he  must  have  visited  it  often  both  in  travel- 
ing to  the  capital  and  for  other  causes.  He  had  every  reason 
to  honor  Cambridge;  Essex,  his  general  and  patron,  went 
to  Trinity,  and  his  brother  Francis  tells  us  in  his  Memoranda 
that  his  father  "put  me  to  Trinity  College  in  Cambridge,'' 
but  because  he  "contemned"  his  tutor  he  "went  to  y' 
warrs."  Indeed,  Jervase  himself  may  have  been  a  student 
at  this  university.  His  knowledge  of  the  classics  and  even 
his  sympathy  for  the  Puritan  cause  would  add  strength 
to  this  supposition.  There  is  no  record  left  at  Trinity 
College  of  his  brother  Francis'  enrollment;  ^  that  of  Jervase 
may  also  have  been  lost. 

The  statements  of  J.  M.  that  he  is  a  poet,  indeed  a  "poore 
poet"  and  a  writer  of  "course  Ryme,"  and  that  he  has  earUer 
sought  public  recognition  with  verse,  but  that  his  "purse 
was  bare,"  also  agree  with  what  we  know  of  Markham. 
Like  the  author's  mention  of  Cambridge,  this  agreement 

1  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  p.  103. 

^  Athenae  Cantabrigienses  mentions  no  Markham. 


e 


144  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

does  not  materially  strengthen  the  argument  that  J.  M. 
and  Markham  were  one,  but  it  assured^  removes  any 
discrepancy  and  shows  that  in  all  the  references  in  the 
manuscript  to  the  author  there  is  nothing  to  weaken  the 
assertion  that  Markham  wrote  The  Newe  Metamorphosis. 
Markham  also  had  written  poetry  before  1600.  He  had 
published  by  the  beginning  of  the  new  century  his  Thyrsis 
and  Daphne,^  The  Most  Honorable  Tragedie  of  Sir  Richard 
Grinvile,  Knight,^  The  Poem  of  Poems,  or  Sions  Miise,^ 
Devoreux,  or  Vertues  Teares,*  and  The  Teares  of  the  Beloved^ 
Indeed,  since  many  of  the  quotations  assigned  to  him  in 
England's  Parnassus  cannot  be  traced  in  his  extant  work,^ 
it  is  probable  that  besides  Thyrsis  and  Daphne  additional 
work  of  Markham  has  been  lost.  In  his  pamphlets,  as  it 
has  been  pointed  out,  he  emphasizes  with  delight  his  eminent 
qualifications  to  write  on  the  subject  concerned.  But  in 
his  verse  he  assumes  a  different  attitude;  with  apparent 
sincerity  he  takes  on  the  humility  of  J.  M.  In  spite  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  won  recognition  for  his  poetry,  he  calls  his 
Muse  "harsh  and  untuned," his  talent  ''slender  and  simple,"  ^ 
and  he  writes  to  his  kinsman  who  had  called  him  a  "poeticall 
lyinge  knave"  that  the  love  of  poetry,  "thoughe  in  others 
it  be  excellent,  in  myself  I  loathe  and  utterlye  abhor  it."^ 
Modesty  and  self-deprecation  among  authors  were  not 
general  in  the  time  of  Markham;  but  with  Markham  as  the 
J.  M.  of  the  manuscript,  we  can  understand  the  references 
in  the  prologue  to  "Myne  infante  Muse"  and  "my  newe- 
borne  poesie,"  and  to  the  many  slighting  lines  concerning 
his  poetical  gift. 

1  Entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register,  1593. 

2  1595.  3  1595.  4  1597.  5  iqqq 

^  Cf.  England's   Parnassus,    ed.    Charles   Crawford,    p.    xliii. 
'  Cf.  The  Teares  of  the  Beloved,  Grosart,  Fuller  Worthies'  Library, 
Vol.  II,  p.  492. 

*  Lambeth  Shrewsbury  Papers  (709,  p.  65\ 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     145 

The  fact  that  J.  M.  appears  to  be  a  devoted  son  to  a  much 
loved  father  ^  is  equally  true  of  Jervase  Markham.  Con- 
cerning his  love  for  his  father,  we  know  that  he  had  much 
respect  and  affection  for  him.  His  first  extant  w^ork,  A 
Discourse  of  Horsmanshippe,  is  dedicated  to  Robert  Markham 
of  Gotham,  and  in  the  letter,  already  mentioned,  he  writes 
to  the  uncle  who  maligned  him  that  he  was  "trulye  my 
father's  sonne,  so  have  I  trulye  a  feelinge  of  my  father's 
indignities." "-  A  frank,  generous  man  was  Jervase  Mark- 
ham, attractively  human  in  his  strength  and  weakness. 
His  defense  of  his  father  accords  well  with  his  unaffected 
piety  and  makes  his  reader  forgive  much  of  his  harmless 
bluster  and  swagger.  And  when  J.  M.  exclaims  concerning 
unnatural  sons: 

I  would  not  banish  them  that  thus  should  deale 

least  parents  indulgence,  in  tyme  should  heale 

this  plaugey  scare,  &  then  rewake  againe 

but  in  a  boate  I'de  set  them  on  the  mayne 

w[i]thout  or  sails  to  drive,  or  meate  to  eate 

bound  hande  &  foots,  't  would  pull  downe  stomacks  greate 

and  make  these  monsters  of  man  kynde  forbeare 

if  not  for  love,  yet  at  the  least  for  feare. 

Not  w[i]thout  cause  men  say,  love  doth  discende 

downe  to  the  childe,  but  backward  not  ascence 

but  shall  sonnes  therfore  thus  unnaturall  prove? 

is  this  the  recompense  of  paternall  love?  ^ 

surely  it  may  be  Markham  who  arraigns  "this  enormous 
vice."  Indeed,  it  is  possible  that  in  this  passage,  in  which 
he  is  telhng  the  story  of  an  ungrateful  eldest  son,  he  might 
have  had  in  mind  that  "fatal  unthrift,"  his  own  eldest 

1  Cf.  Chap.  HI,  pp.  103  fT. 

2  Lambeth  Shrewsbury  Papers  (709,  p.  65). 

3  Vol.  II,  fol.  10.5.  The  wTiter  continues  at  much  length  with  ex- 
amples of  good  sons.     He  starts  with  "Eneas." 


146  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

brother,  Robert,  who  utterly  ruined  the  fortunes  of  his 
family.^ 

The  next  point  to  be  considered  is  the  statement  of  J.  M. 
that  he  hved  on  the  "outmost  side"  of  the  East  Angles.^ 
The  territory  of  the  East  Angles  not  only  comprised  the 
modern  counties  of  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  Cambridge,  and  Ely,^ 
but  it  extended  north  and  west  over  the  vast  expanse  of 
marshlands  to  the  higher  ground  of  Nottingham.*  Floria- 
censis,  writing  in  about  970,  says  that  East  Angha  is  almost 
surrounded  by  water.^  It  has  the  ocean  on  the  east  and 
southeast,  and  in  the  north  an  inunense  tract  of  morass 
which  rises  near  the  center  of  England  and  falls  from  the 
level  of  the  country  to  the  ocean  in  a  course  of  more  than 
one  hundred  miles.  The  "outmost  side"  of  the  East  Angles, 
''yet  not  in  Essex,"  necessarily  leads  one  to  the  conclusion 
that  J.  M.  hved  near  Newark-upon-Trent,  the  northwestern 
border  of  East  Anglia.  As  Markham  was  born  at  Gotham 
and  undoubtedly  spent  much  of  his  life  in  the  vicinity  of 
this  Httle  village,  a  few  miles  south  of  Newark,  J.  M.,  in 
this  instance,  seems  to  give  additional  evidence  that  he 
might  be  Jervase  Markham. 

The  last  point  to  be  considered  —  the  homely,  vernacular 
style  —  scarcely  needs  discussion.  The  charm  of  Markham 
in  his  prose  works  and  in  most  of  his  narrative  verse  is  this 
homely  simplicity,  this  fondness  for  the  rugged  vernacular 
of  his  forefathers  who  did  not  "come  in"  with  the  Con- 
queror. The  Newe  Metamorphosis  is  essentially  a  collection 
of  stories,  not  told  in  the  stilted,  affected  fashion  of  The 

1  Thoroton,  History  of  Nottinghamshire,  Vol.  I,  p.  344. 

2  Cf.  Chap.  Ill,  p.  104. 

3  Lingard,  History  of  England,  1912,  p.  16  and  map,  p.  18. 

*  Cf.   Greene,    The  Conquest  of  England,   1884   edition;    the   map, 
p.  316,  shows  East  AngHa  almost  touching  the  Trent  at  Newark. 
^  Camden,  Britannia,  p.  152. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      147 

Teares  of  the  Beloved  or  the  Sir  Richard  Grinvile,  both  written 
by  an  ambitious  young  aspirant  for  fame,  but  expressed 
with  all  the  racy  vigor  of  the  Markham  at  home  with  his 
subject  and  understanding  his  audience.  And  not  only 
is  its  colloquiahsm  that  of  Markham,  but  the  folklore,  the 
proverbs,  the  pithy  turns  of  expression,  which  are  found  so 
abundantly  in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  and  lend  it  flavor, 
are  all  typical  of  him. 

But  even  the  delight  in  classical  allusions  and  heavy  con- 
ceits which  mars  the  serious  poetical  work  of  Markham 
can  be  found  in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  Reference  to 
the  mythology  of  Greece  and  Rome  becomes  wearisome 
and,  at  times,  puzzles  the  readers;  for  frequently  some  love- 
seeking  divinity  is  called  by  several  names.  And  when  the 
author  attempts  a  "grand  manner,"  he  betrays  all  the  faults 
of  Markham's  early  verse  in  the  labored  metaphor  and  the 
bizarre  conceits,^  interrupted  by  strikingly  homely  and 
characteristic  hnes,  devoid  of  all  the  hit  and  melody  of  poetic 
inspiration. 

In  this  connection,  it  is  interesting  to  compare  The  Teares 
of  the  Beloved  with  the  stanzas  in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis, 
written  by  an  ardent  lover  to  his  cruel  mistress.^  These 
Hnes  are  the  only  exception  to  the  couplet  in  which  the 
manuscript  is  written.  Its  stanza,  made  famous  by  Shak- 
spere  in  Venus  and  Adonis,  is  the  same  as  that  of  Markham's 
two  sacred  poems,  and  the  almost  exclusive  prevalence  of 
the  masculine  rime,  the  clogged  movement  of  the  verse, 
the  prosaic  expressions,  the  labored  ornamentations  in  these 
poems,  are  markedly  similar  in  spite  of  the  widest  divergence 
of  subject. 

1  Examples:  the  prayer  of  thanksgivdng  of  Elizabeth  after  the 
defeat  of  the  Armada,  and  the  eulogy  of  the  queen,  Vol.  I,  Part  II, 
fos.  135  verso  ff. 

*  Vol.  II,  fos.  17  ff. 


148  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

I  quote  two  stanzas  at  random  from  the  manuscript  and 
from  The  Teares  of  the  Beloved: 

"Of  rocky  substance  did  Pigmalion 

make  a  faire  woman,  was  't  not  wondrous  strange? 

O  fairer  creature's  nowe  turn'd  to  a  stone 

from  her  senceless  deedes  will  never  change 

senceles  of  my  soules  vexed  misseries 

caused  by  beauties  charmed  witcheries. 

Grante,  grante  yee  gods,  that  her  harde  diamond  harte 
may  metamorphosed  be  to  softest  mould 
greate  Cupid  thou  helpe  w**^  thy  burning  darte 
she  burne  w''^  heate,  rather  than  frize  w^^  colde 
grante,  grante,  yee  heavenly  powers  this  my  request 
w'^^  if  you  doe  I  shalbe  ever  blest."  ^ 

"My  sweetest  Sweete,  my  Lord,  my  love,  my  life, 
The  World's  brighte  lampe,  farre  clearer  then  the  sunne, 
What  may  this  meane;  caijnot  I  end  tliis  strife, 
This  ranckorous  spight,  by  wicked  Jewes  begunne? 

0  man  most  pure,  for  wretches  most  forlorne, 
Must  my  great  God  to  men  be  made  a  scorne?  ^ 

Suffer  my  speech,  who  suffer  now  with  grief e : 
Death  void  of  death ;  for  death  here  liveth  still : 
Barr'd  from  all  hope,  shut  out  from  all  reliefe, 
Most  sad  complaints,  my  hearing  now  doth  fill; 

1  have  no  rest,  but  in  unrest  remaine : 

No  tongue,  or  penne,  can  well  declare  my  paine."  ^ 

In  conclusion,  it  is  evident  that  whenever  the  manuscript 
becomes  autobiographical  or  plainly  indicates  the  prefer- 
ences and  the  temperament  of  its  author,  it  seems  to  point 
to  Markham.     Markham  had  the  right  by  birth  to  call 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  17  ff. 

2  Grosart,  Fuller  Worthies',  p.  526. 

3  Ibid.,  p.  519. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     149 

himself  a  gentleman,  and  he  signed  himself  J.  M.,  I.  M., 
G.  M.  indiscriminately;  in  fact  the  entry  of  his  burial  calls 
him  Jarvis  Markham;  his  name  was  French,  and  still  his 
family  did  not  come  to  England  with  the  Conqueror;  he 
was  a  soldier,  serving  in  Spain,  Flanders,  and  in  Connaught, 
Ireland;  he  was  a  man  of  simple  piety,  in  sympathy  with 
the  Puritans,  and  an  admirer  of  Essex;  he  was  an  outdoor 
man,  knowing  the  problems  of  the  agricultural  laborer,  the 
pursuits  of  the  country  gentleman,  and  he  possessed  a 
fund  of  quaint  knowledge  concerning  horticulture  and  of 
traditional  folklore;  he  was  a  man  of  wide  reading  with 
a  fondness  of  displaying  unusual  sources  of  information; 
he  preferred  Cambridge  to  Oxford,  and  Trinity  College  he 
selected  for  particular  mention:  he  was  also  devoted  to  his 
father;  he  was  a  poet  conscious  of  his  limitations,  who  lived 
on  the  "outmost"  border  of  East  Anglia;  and  he  possessed 
a  simple,  colloquial  style,  often  hampered  by  an  excessive 
use  of  classical  allusions. 

There  are  some  additional  reasons,  suggestive  if  not  au- 
thoritative, why  we  may  ascribe  this  manuscript  to  Mark- 
ham,  For  instance,  when  Miss  Toulmin-Smith  ^  asserts 
that  one  who  was  notorious  for  his  thefts  from  others  could 
not  be  the  author  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  because  of  the 
Hnes  in  the  Prologue: 

to  filchinge  lynes  I  am  a  deadly  foe, 

she  really  advances  a  strong  argument  in  favor  of  Markham, 
who,  conscious  of  his  shortcomings,  was  constantly  pro- 
claiming in  his  ingenious  prefaces  innocence  of  this  very 
offense.  An  example  of  this  can  be  found  in  several  of  his 
treatises  where  he  denies  repeating  what  he  had  written 
earlier  or  disclaims  plagiarism,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 

1  The  Shakspere  Allusion-Book,  Vol.  II,  p.  483. 


150  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

repeats  almost  verbatim  what  can  be  found  in  his  other 
works.     He  writes  in  one  place: 

To  the  best  disposed  Readers 

Many  and  sundry  may  be  the  constructions  and  censures  of 
this  Booke  (Courteous  and  well  disposed  Reader)  because  I  have 
in  former  time  written  so  largely  of  the  subject  contained  herein; 
but  I  would  have  no  man  mistaken  in  his  own  prejudicate  opinion, 
but  truly  understand,  that  this  is  neither  Epitome,  Relation,  Ex- 
traction, nor  Repetition  either  of  mine  own,  or  any  Author  whatso- 
ever.^ 

And  again,  in  His  Farewell  to  Husbandry,^  he  asserts:  "nor 
do  I  in  this  Book  intend  to  write  any  title  that  is  in  them 
[former  works]  contained;  for  as  I  love  not  Tautology,  so 
I  hate  to  wrong  my  friend." 

Markham  protests  overmuch  his  honesty.  The  Sta- 
tioners' Register  Company,  as  has  already  been  mentioned, 
attempted  to  curtail  his  unscrupulous  deceit  of  the  public.^ 
Surely  he  was  the  man  who  would  virtuously  proclaim : 

to  filchinge  lynes  I  am  a  deadly  foe. 

In  the  next  place  the  letter  of  Markham  to  his  uncle, 
who  had  called  him  a  ''poeticall  andlyinge  knave,"  ^  although 
it  is,  most  unfortunately,  not  in  script,  but  is  written  with 
great  care  and  skill  in  print  letters,  still  throws  interesting 
light  on  the  question  of  authorship.  /.  M.,  as  we  can  see, 
was  proud  of  his  skill  as  a  penman.  The  many  flourishes 
and  the  different  scripts  in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  and, 
indeed,  the  legibility  and  clearness  of  the  long  manuscript, 
all  make  this  evident.  This  letter,  carefully  composed  and 
sent  to  an  irate  uncle,  bears  evidence  of  labored  effort  both 


1  Country  Contentments,  1683  edition. 

2  1684  edition,  p.  i. 

3  "24th  daie  of  July,  1617." 

*  Cf.  Grosart,  Fuller  Worthies'  Library,  Vol.  II,  p.  473. 


THE  AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      151 

in  its  wording  and  in  its  appearance.  The  printing  is  excel- 
lent, and  it  is  of  importance  to  us  in  determining  the  author- 
ship of  the  poem,  because,  in  spite  of  the  fact  of  not  being 
in  script,  the  slant,  the  formation  of  the  letters,  especially 
of  the  capitals,  and  its  individualities  can  all  be  found  in 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis.  J.  M.  has  a  marked  and  repeated 
tendency  to  continue  the  downward  slope  of  the  capitals 
such  as  A,  M,  F,  T,  etc.,  with  a  sharp  angle  to  the  right 
upon  the  line.  This  eccentricity  is  found  in  the  letter,^ 
especially  in  the  capital  A.  This  characteristic  is  so  unusual 
that  it  strengthens  materially  the  conviction  that  J.  M. 
is  Markham. 

The  rancorous  hatred  of  Spain  which  constantly  inter- 
rupts the  stories  and  crops  out  even  in  narratives  con- 
cerning the  pagan  deities,  although  it  was  characteristic  of 
the  period,  is  also  of  interest  in  this  connection.  Markham 
had  weighty  reasons  for  this  abhorrence.  His  leader  and 
patron,  Essex,  was  the  chief  of  the  adversaries  of  Spain  in 
England,  and  furthermore,  Markham's  varied  career  as  a 
soldier  had  brought  him  into  actual  conflict  with  Spaniards 
and  their  machinations,  for  even  in  Ireland  Spanish  gold  and 
Spanish  priests  helped  to  inflame  the  volatile  peasantry  and 
the  rebellious  earls.  He  had  undoubtedly  seen  many  in- 
stances of  Spanish  cruelty,  especially  in  Flanders,  and  the 
vitriolic  outbursts  concerning  the  treachery  and  cruelty 
of  the  dangerous  adversary  of  England,  although  they  do 

^  Handwriting  experts  tell  me  that  it  is  impossible  to  afRrm  with 
certainty  that  the  printed  hand  and  the  script  are  the  same.  They 
agree,  however,  that  the  same  mannerisms  are  found  in  both  the 
letter  and  the  manuscript,  and  believe  that  J.  M.  is  INIarkliam.  Mr. 
Wilmer  R.  Leech,  Manuscript  Division  of  the  New  York  Public  Li- 
brary, was  especially  struck  by  the  peculiarity  mentioned  above.  In- 
teresting pages  for  comparison  are  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  3,  20  verso,  36 
verso,  78;    Part  II,  fos.  1  verso,  2  verso,  134  verso:    Vol.  II,  fol.  142. 


152  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

not  furnish  any  conclusive  proof  that  J.  M.  was  Markham, 
still  strengthen  the  evidence  already  advanced. 

Furthermore  the  fact  that  in  spite  of  J.  M.'s  detestation  of 
the  Papacy  and  its  followers,  and  of  the  support  lent  to  the 
schemes  of  Rome  to  undermine  Protestantism  in  England, 
he  speaks  in  only  a  few  lines  ^  of  the  so-called  Bye  Plot 
against  James,  in  contrast  to  the  many  pages  devoted  to  the 
iniquities  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot  and  other  attempts  against 
the  life  of  either  Elizabeth  and  James  or  against  the  Protes- 
tant faith,  lends  additional  weight  to  the  belief  that  Mark- 
ham  was  /.  M.  Sir  Griffin  Markham,  the  cousin  of  Jervase, 
and  the  most  conspicuous  member  of  his  house,  a  haughty, 
restless  soldier  and  follower  of  Essex,  who  was  implicated  in 
this  uprising,  sadly  impaired  the  family  fortunes,  according 
to  Francis  Markham,^  "whereat  our  name  disgraced." 
Although  the  author  of  the  Bye  Plot  was  a  Roman  CathoHc 
priest,  William  Watson,  who  was  angered  because  James 
continued  to  levy  recusancy  fines  against  his  coreligionists, 
most  of  those  implicated  were  not  of  his  faith.  Ralegh 
had  favored  the  Puritans;  Lord  Grey  was  a  leader  of  the 
non-conformists;  and  Brooke,  the  brother  of  Lord  Cobham, 
was  a  stanch  Protestant.^  J.  M.  mentions  the  conspirators 
by  names,  deplores  their  "blacke  conspiracie,"  and  de- 
clares that  death  should  be  the  punishment;  still  he  turns, 
after  a  short  half  page,  with  apparent  relief  to  the  "Powder 
Treason"  and  hurls  with  unflagging  zest  anathemas  at 
"Baynam,"  "Guydo  Faulks,"  "Catsby,"  and  especially 
Garnet,  who  had  betrayed  the  Bye  Plot  to  the  king. 

Indeed,  much  of  the  fawning  and  servile  praise  of  the 
unkingly  James,  which  occurs  at  frequent  intervals  in  The 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  198  verso. 

2  Memoranda.  Cf.  D.  F.  Markham,  A  History  of  the  Markham 
Family,  pp.  31  ff. 

3  F.  C.  Montague,  Political  History  of  Eiigland,  Vol.  VII,  pp.  7  ff. 


THE    AUTHOR   OF   THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS      153 

Newe  Metamorphosis  ^  and  cloys  the  reader,  can  be  attributed 
to  the  fact  that  Jervase  Markham,  possibly  himself  sus- 
pected, was  seeking  pardon  and  renewed  favor  from  his 
sovereign  for  his  house.  It  is  true  that  many  of  his  greater 
contemporaries,  especially  at  the  death  of  Prince  Henry, 
bartered  self-respect  and  even  damaged  their  reputation 
in  the  gross  flattery  they  offered  to  the  Stuart  king,  Mark- 
ham  had  briUiant  company  in  the  role  of  sycophant.  Still, 
I  like  to  believe  that  his  attainted  cousin  furnished  a  more 
legitimate  cause  for  seeking  recognition  from  the  court  than 
that  offered  to  some.^ 

We  have  seen  that  Markham  helped  in  two  plays,  a 
comedy,  The  Dumbe  Knight,  and  a  tragedy,  Herod  and  Anti- 
pater.  J.  M.  also  refers  several  times  in  a  casual  but  in- 
timate way  to  the  theater  and  to  city  life.  In  spite  of  his 
love  for  the  country,  he  knew  the  town,  as  his  vivid  pictures 
of  gambling,  London  bawds,  and  Lord  Mayor  processions 
all  show.  This  familiarity  with  both  the  gayety  of  the  city 
and  the  sports  of  the  country  gentleman  is  also  peculiar 
to  Markham  who  also  was  intimate  with  the  life  of  the 
capital;  indeed,  he  takes  dehght  in  showing  this  knowledge 
in  his  many  works.  Even  in  the  short  letter  to  his  uncle, 
which  has  already  been  referred  to,  he  resorts  to  a  reference 
to  the  theater.  He  writes  that  the  enemies  of  the  Mark- 
ham family  take  pleasure  in  their  dissension,  and  ".doe  as 
in  a  theater  sytt  and  laughe  at  our  ech  others  devouringe."  ^ 

And  even  the  lack  of  extended  reference  in  the  manu- 
script to  contemporaries,  which  is  a  matter  of  regret  to  the 

1  Vol.  II,  Book  X,  fos.  197  verso  ff.,  are  excellent  examples  of  this. 
James  is  "A  glorious  Sum." 

2  The  entries  to  the  Stationers'  Register,  1612-1613,  are  interesting 
in  this  connection.  Chapman,  Donne,  Drummond,  Wither,  Campion, 
were  among  this  number. 

'  Lambeth  Shrewsbury  Papers  (709,  p.  65). 


154  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

reader,  is  also,  as  it  has  been  pointed  out,  typical  of  Mark- 
ham.  J.  M.  may  borrow  from  Sidney,  Spenser,  or  the 
satire  of  the  day,  but  he  does  not  acknowledge  his  debt. 
When,  however,  he  parallels  with  some  closeness  Venus  and 
Adonis,  he  naturally  brings  the  filthy  clerk  President  in 
The  Dumhe  Knight  to  our  mind,  who  also  quotes  at  length 
from  Shakspere's  youthful  amatory  poem.  Mr.  Fleay  ^ 
made  the  assertion,  which  never  gained  support,  that  Mark- 
ham  because  of  certain  dedications  to  Henry  Wriothesley, 
Earl  of  Southampton,  might  be  the  rival  poet  to  whom 
Shakspere  referred.^  It  has  also  been  thought  that  Mark- 
ham  by  his  use  of  Venus  and  Adonis  was  attacking  Shakspere 
in  The  Dumhe  Knight,  especially  censuring  the  salacious 
character  of  the  Ovidian  poem.  But  as  Markham  had 
published  in  1593  a  work  ^  probably  similar  in  character, 
and  since  he  uses  this  poem  in  both  The  Dumhe  Knight  and 
in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  one  may  doubt  any  ulterior 
motive  except  a  knowledge  and  an  admiration  for  the  verse 
of  his  contemporary.  At  least  it  is  significant  that  in  spite 
of  the  scarcity  of  reference  to  the  writers  of  the  time  in  both 
the  manuscript  and  in  the  accepted  works  of  Markham, 
both  J.  M.  and  Markham  use  with  freedom  the  Venus  and 
Adonis. 

And  so  even  his  denial  of  "thefts  from  others,"  his  letter 
to  his  uncle,  his  detestation  of  Spain,  his  slight  reference  to 
the  Bye  Plot,  his  knowledge  of  the  stage,  and  his  lack  of 
references  to  contemporary  authors  in  the  field  of  belles- 
lettres,  further  strengthen  the  belief  that  J.  M.  was  Jervase 
Markham  and  that  the  popular  author  of  diverse  works  in 
prose,  poetry,  and  drama  sought  to  seek  favor  in  a  new 

^  Biographical  Chronicle  of  the  English  Stage,  pp.  59  ff. 
2  Cf.  Shakspere's  Sonnets,  78-86. 
'  Thyrsis  and  Daphne. 


THE    AUTHOR  OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      155 

field  ^  and  possibly  to  enhance  his  reputation  as  a  man  of 
letters.^ 

Since  it  has  been  shown  with  some  degree  of  probability 
that  Markham  is  J.  M.,  it  is  interesting  to  speculate  again 
why  an  author,  so  anxious  to  bid  for  pubHc  recognition  and 
so  fertile  in  his  resources,  did  not  publish  The  Newe  Meta- 
morphosis. There  are  possibly  several  reasons  for  this. 
In  the  first  place,  the  work  is  often  crude;  it  would  need 
revision  and  Markham  was  a  busy  man.  Then  the  very 
length  of  the  manuscript,  its  rambling  character,  its  annoy- 
ing digressions  and  multiplicity  of  motives,  would  cause 
most  pubUshers  to  hesitate  before  undertaking  a  venture 
which  presaged  pecuniary  loss.  Drayton,  a  far  greater 
poet,  in  spite  of  royal  and  influential  patrons,  struggled 
against  despair  in  his  efforts  to  interest  an  indifferent  public 
in  his  Poly-Olbion.  And  Markham,  in  spite  of  an  ingenuity 
almost  amounting  to  genius  in  writing  happy  dedications 
and  in  seeking  powerful  patrons,  would  have  encountered 
even  greater  obstacles.  His  poem  was  of  greater  length, 
and,  in  addition,  was  of  %uch  a  nature  that  sponsors 
would  be  difficult  to  find.  His  animosity  to  Spain  cropping 
out  so  frequently,  though  popular  in  1600,  would  arouse 
bitterness  in  1615,  and  possibly  even  lead  to  the  suppression 

^  This  manuscript  is  not  altogether  a  new  type  of  work  for  Mark- 
ham. In  his  additions  to  Sidney's  Arcadia  he  assumed  the  role  of  a 
writer  of  stories. 

"^  In  the  manuscript  there  are  many  attacks  on  the  goldsmith.  In 
Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  28  ver.so  ff.,  he  states  after  a  particularly  severe 
attack,  he  means  no  offense  and  that  he  is  a  goldsmith.  In  Vol.  II, 
fos.  154  verso  ff.,  a  goldsmith  is  again  made  a  character  in  an  obscene 
story.  J.  M.  evidently  hates  the  goldsmith,  the  usurer  of  the  time. 
He  says  he  is  one  probably  in  order  to  give  him  an  opportunity  to 
attack  the  craft.  Marston  makes  sport  of  the  goldsmith  in  Master 
Burnish  in  The  Dutch  Courtezan.  Jonson  in  The  Alchemist,  Act.  I, 
Sc.  I,  says  that  Drugger  is  "no  goldsmith." 


156  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

of  his  work  and  to  prosecution.  His  "booke,"  intended  to 
be  dedicated  to  "a  queen,"  the  ardent  enemy  of  Spain  and 
of  Roman  Cathohcism,  could  scarcely  gain  favor  at  the  hands 
of  a  Stuart  king  who  had  frequently  coquetted  with  those  of 
his  mother's  faith,  and  who,  in  spite  of  bitter  opposition  at 
home,  was  wooing  the  former  implacable  enemy.  Indeed, 
The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  in  spite  of  its  servile  tone  towards 
James  and  the  royal  family,  is  daringly  bold  at  times  in  the 
outspoken  condemnation  of  existing  abuses.^  The  Mark- 
ham  family  had  suffered  in  its  fortunes  from  the  exile  be- 
cause of  treason  of  Sir  Griffin  Markham.  Jervase  was 
shrewd;  he  shunned  trouble. 

But  it  is  possible  that  Markham  was  deterred  from  publica- 
tion neither  because  of  the  extreme  length  of  this  manuscript, 
nor  because  of  the  bitter  tone  towards  matters  of  royal  con- 
cern. His  Puritanism,  always  latent  to  a  degree  in  his  youth- 
ful works,  but  growing  in  the  course  of  years  in  strength 
and  conviction  to  a  genuine,  simple  piety,  would  force  him 
to  recognize  that  the  nature  of  the  material  of  The  Newe 
Metamorphosis  was  incongruous  with  his  faith.  The  Mark- 
ham of  1615  was  not  the  Markham  of  1600.  The  gay 
narrator  of  salacious  Ovidian  tales  and  merry  fabliaux  had 
suffered  a  metamorphosis  into  a  serious  middle-aged  English- 
man, struggling  for  a  livelihood  and  fearful  for  the  future 
of  his  comedy.  Impetuous  youth  had  merged  into  re- 
flective age.  The  careless  follower  of  Essex  and  Vere, 
the  reckless  soldier  at  Cadiz,  the  swashbuckling  adventurer 
of  many  campfires,  the  chivalrous  and  lusty  lover  of  "Ma- 
tilda faire"  had  become  a  champion  of  his  country's  faith 
and  honor  against  plotters  at  home  and  treacherous  machin- 
ations abroad.  He  was  no  longer  the  Markham  of  ribald 
tales  of  illicit  loves;   he  was  the  Markham  of  the  fiery  dia- 

1  Vol.  II  has  many  examples  of  this.  The  plantations  in  Ulster  and 
Virginia  are  attacked,  the  selling  of  honors,  etc. 


THE    AUTHOR   OF   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS    157 

tribes  against  whatever  is  inimical  to  England.  A  man  of 
courage  always,  he  had  become  the  patriot;  an  earnest,  in 
a  hmnble  but  honest  way,  of  the  overthrow  of  the  despotic 
Stuarts,  indeed,  of  the  glory  of  England  in  her  present 
struggle  for  the  right. 

The  rude  couplet  which  concludes  the  manuscript, 

My  leave  I  here  of  Poetrie  doe  take 
For  I  have  writte  untill  my  hande  doth  ake. 
Finis.^ 

not  only  finishes  The  Newe  Metamorphosis,  but  also  announces 
Markham's  farewell  to  the  "feather-light"-  Muse  at  whose 
shrine  he  had  modestly  worshiped  for  many  years.  With 
characteristic  grandiloquence  and  assumption  of  authority, 
he  repeated  at  length^  before  he  wrote  "Finis"  the  range 
of  subjects  treated  in  the  thousands  of  lines.  The  labor  of 
many  years  had  come  to  an  end.  But  was  it  a  labor? 
Surely  our  author  has  poured  out  in  these  hastily  written 
couplets  his  joy  of  youth  and  his  meditation  of  age.  The 
impetuous  ardor  of  the  Elizabethan  adventurer,  the  daunt- 
less spirit  so  typical  of  those  years  of  endeavor  and  achieve- 
ment, gradually  give  way  to  a  bitter  anger.  He  forgets 
the  joyous  intrigues  of  the  easy-loving  gods  to  become  the 
loyal  patriot  and  mihtant  Christian.  Still  he  always  shows 
the  intense  curiosity  for  new  experiences,  the  extravagant 
enthusiasm  and  valiant  assurance  so  characteristic  of  his 
day;  a  day  when  literature  was  still  to  many  an  adventure 
or  a  means  to  political  preferment;  an  era  when  men,  their 
vaulting  ambition  recognizing  no  barriers,  thought  in  con- 
tinents and  wrote  with  the  same  lavish  prodigality.  He 
carries  the  stamp  of  his  period. 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  268. 

^  Letter  in  Lambeth  Shrewsbury  Papers  (709,  p.  65). 

5  Vol.  II,  fos.  267  ff. 


158  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

It  is  true  that  Markham  in  this  work  has  levied  con- 
tributions on  all  countries.  Sources  of  the  widest  divergence 
have  been  drawn  upon  to  furnish  enjoyment  or  information. 
But  chiefly  in  the  many  pages  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
he  has  revealed  to  us  himself.  He  has  left  us  a  human 
document  of  httle  artistic  worth  when  considered  as  poetry, 
but  of  some  real  importance  as  a  record  of  a  vital  and  trans- 
cendent age  in  the  history  of  letters  and  of  men.  It  may 
not  add  materially  to  our  knowledge  of  that  period,  but 
it  assuredly  substantiates  and  at  times  amplifies  our  ac- 
quaintance with  that  crowded  stage  of  Elizabethan  Hfe 
and  its  galaxy  of  figures,  Olympian  in  their  splendid  power 
and  weaknesses. 

But  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  is  worth  consideration  for 
other  reasons.  It  gives  to  the  student  of  Hterature  a  col- 
lection of  stories,  voluminous  in  bulk  and  comprehensive 
in  theme,  in  which  are  found  homely  wisdom,  engaging 
fun,  scathing  invective,  generous  admiration,  simple  devo- 
tion, and  fervid  patriotism.  The  manuscript,  indeed,  brings 
a  new  luster  to  the  reputation  of  an  interesting  and  attrac- 
tive personaHty.  Markham  has  long  been  regarded  as  the 
authority  of  his  day  on  rural  occupations  and  recreations. 
He  has  given  the  student  valuable  information  concerning 
the  use  of  horses  and  the  profession  of  the  soldier.  But 
in  The  Newe  Metamorphosis  he  takes  honorable  place  in 
another  field  in  which  he  can  justly  claim  an  added  appre- 
ciation. He  may  paint  his  canvas  with  a  coarse  brush, 
boldly  splashing  and  smearing  his  effects;  he  may  want 
subtlety  and  imagination;  he  may  lack  tenderness.  Still 
his  manly  vigor,  honest  warmth,  genuine  appeal,  and  spon- 
taneous flow  of  vigorous,  clear,  and  unstudied  narrative 
give  worth  to  the  manuscript.  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 
is  of  interest  because  it  is  the  work  of  Markham;  it  is  of 
value  because  of  its  own  merits. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SELECTIONS    FROM    THE  NEWE    METAMORPHOSIS 

The  Prologue  ^  of  The  Newe  Metamorphosis 

Uppon  the  publique  stage,  to  Albions  eye 

I  here  presente  my  newe-borne  poesie 

not  w*^  vaine  glory  puft  to  make  me  knowne 

or  Indian-like  w***  feathers  not  myne  owne 

to  decke  my  seKe,  as  many  use  to  doe 

to  filchinge  lynes  I  am  a  deadly  foe. 

What  then  might  make  me  undergoe  this  taske? 

t'  unvizar  those  w*^^  secretly  doe  maske 

in  self-conceipt,  &  their  lewde  actions  showe 

that  all  the  world  their  villanies  may  knowe. 

Not  peevish  envies  hateful!  rodde  to  use 

and  true-deservinge  basely  to  abuse 

I  scorne  &  hate,  for  vertue  I  would  praise 

&  vertuous  men  to  heaven  w*'^  poems  raise 

malhce  I  beare  to  none  who  e're  me  reade 

for  having  spoken,  all  myne  anger's  deade 

Myne  infante  Muse,  longe  studieng  what  to  wright 

at  first  resolved,  some  bloody  warres  t'  endighte 

but  Love  casierd  ^  that  thought  w*^  his  soft  charms 

sayeing  that  warre's  best,  w'"'^  can  doe  noe  harme 

my  yeildinge  mynde  to  him  gave  wallinge  eare 

but  then  straite  wayes  before  me  did  appeare 

large  volumes  &  whole  libraries  compleate 

of  Love  in  lively  colo""*,  fyne  &  neate 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  5  ff. 

^  Greene,  Groaisworlh   of  Wit,  p.  2S:    "He  was    cassierde "  —  our 
cashiered. 

159 


160  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

w*'^  dasht  my  f oraier  thoughts :  and  then  thought  I 

of  Country es  strange  I'le  write  a  Historie 

the  wicked  world  to  lewdnes  most  enclyn'd 

banisht  that  thought  as  quickly  as  the  wynde 

(the  whirle  \vynde  tempest)  makes  the  dust  to  flie 

farre  from  the  place  where  it  before  did  lie 

and  in  rough  Satyres,  I  did  then  intende 

w*^  smartinge  lynes  the  world  to  reprehende. 

Nay  then  thought  I,  I  may  as  well  discover 

the  cheatinge  world  under  a  comicke-lover 

for  lovers  lye,  fawne,  flatter  &  dissemble 

&  doe  indeed  Theatrians  most  resemble. 

Then  buskind  Seneca,  came  to  my  mynde 

Tragedian-hke,  to  write  of  deaths  unkynde 

of  government  of  States,  cities  &  townes 

of  Princes,  Lords,  of  Peisants  &  of  Clownes 

strange  murderinge  massacres,  &  poisons  fell 

w°^  were  devised  by  some  foule  feinde  in  hell. 

But  this  mee  thought  did  not  my  humo""  fitte 

in  these  eche  Pedant  shewes  his  borrowed  witte 

nay  all  of  these  I'le  touche;  both  one  &  all 

not  severally,  but  yet  in  generall 

■even  as  a  Flemish  Gallemanfrey  made 

of  flesh,  herbes,  onyons,  both  of  roote  and  blade 

so  shall  you  fynde  them  in  this  booke  conteinde 

for  some  strange  thinge  to  write,  I  onely  ay'mde. 

I  ne're  sawe  any  of  o'"  Nation  yet 

that  me  a  patterne  in  this  subiecte  set 

nor  but  one  stranger,  Ovid  alone  was  he 

that  in  this  labo""  did  incourage  mee. 

I  from  my  harte  doe  hate  the  Parasite 

even  as  the  man  that  vertue  doth  backbite 

what  then  is  fitter  for  these  impious  tymes 

then  yrefull  Satyres,  clad  in  rugged  rymes 

harsh  though  my  lynes  be,  yo"  shall  substance  fynde 

yo"  that  degenerating  growe  out  of  kynde 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     161 

but  smoother  much  unto  the  innocente 
for  such  to  please  it  is  my  cheife  intente 
though  I  goe  on  but  in  a  hobhnge  ryme 
yet  I  may  happe  to  meete  w**^  them  some  tyme 
whome  better  verse  could  never  touche  as  yet 
&  make  them  storme,  &  rage,  &  fume,  &  frette 
well,  be  it  soe.     I  am  content  w*^^  all 
sucke  they  sweete  honey  out  of  bitter  gall 
I  have  noe  Poets  pleasinge  smoth-fyl'd  veyne 
but  a  ragg'd  Satyrists  rougher  hewen  straine 
I  not  affecte  curiositie  of  words 
nyce  elloquence  my  subiecte  not  affourds 
Satyres  are  clothed  in  rough  hairy  skinnes 
even  such  as  I,  they  &  my  Muse  are  twinnes 
nor  yet  will  tyme  p[er]mit  me  to  bestowe 
more  labo""  on  them,  the  rather  for  I  knowe 
bookes  of  this  nature  being  once  p[er]used 
are  then  cast  by  &  as  braj^ed  ware  refused. 
What  subiecte  then,  thinke  yo"  I  did  finde  out 
to  shewe  the  world  infected  w**^  the  goute 
w*^  pestilence,  plague  &  rotten  dropsie 
of  Pride,  Deceipte  &  itchinge  Lecherie 
of  superstition,  Poperie  &  Treason 
the  traders  in  w°*^  are  quite  voide  of  reason.^ 
Ingratefulnes  &  tongue-tipt-tatlers 
of  Witchcraft,  Lovers  &  damned  Murderers 
&  others  moe?    Their  strange  Mutation 
wrought  by  the  Gods  iuste  Transformation. 
And  first  w*^  them  as  order  doth  require 
shape-changing-Jove,  my  feeble  Muse  enspire 
and  let  thy  daughters  &  Mnemosines 
me  of  this  heavy  burden  quicklj'^  ease 
Matilda  fayre,  guide  thou  my  wandring  quill 
who  rul'est  my  harte,  that  vicious  men  &  ill 
to  their  eternall  shame  I  may  disgrace 
&  so  extoU  of  righteous  men  the  race,^ 

1  This  couplet  is  in  the  margin. 


162  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

my  poore  dull  witte,  richly  doe  thou  inspire 
inflame  my  braine  w*^  Loves  celestiall  fyre 
that  I  may  lively  in  my  rymes  expresse 
the  secretst  actions  of  rebyrednes 
and  show  the  ugliest  face  of  horrid  vice 
that  so  here  after  it  may  none  intice 
that  I  may  vertues  thine  to  th'  world  expresse 
for  imitation,  though  thou  art  matchlesse, 
for  beauty  rare  &  spotles  chastety 
well  worth  the  praising  to  eternity.^ 
Gaynemed  let  me  one  cup  of  Nectar  drinke, 
although  I  come  not  at  the  Thespian  brinke 
Yo"  Graces  thre,  come  to  Lucinas  ayde 
that  noe  abortive  birth  make  men  afraide 
and  sweete  Minerva  be  thou  at  this  birth 
to  give  th'  ingenious  reader  pleasing  mirthe. 

Venus  describes  to  Cupid  the  type  of  lover  pleasing  to 
women :  ^ 

give  me  the  Lad,  that  loveth  iolUty 

that  midnight  revellings  delighteth  in 

that  dares  take  any  Ladie  by  the  chin 

lay  her  on  th'  lippes,  &  w*^  fewe  words  embrace 

that  dares  stande  forth  to  take  a  Ladies  case 

that's  not  faint-harted,  like  a  gawdy  Gull 

one  that  will  doe  't,  before  he  sayes  he  will 

w*^  labouringe-Hyndes,  may  Cravens  goe  in  rankes 

whose  suite-free-service,  is  not  worth  our  thankes. 

cowardly-fainte-harte,  nere  faire  Ladie  got 

they  are  unworthy,  such  a  happie  lot 

the  bold  adventerous  spirite,  he  shall  obteine 

when  asse  the  bashfoole  humblie  sues  in  vaine. 

Loves-ljTnits  are  not  bounded  in  modestie 

prescriptions,  rules,  &  lawes  they  doe  defie 

1  This  couplet  is  in  the  margin. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  110  verso  ff. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     163 

for  my  best  Soldier,  boldly  enter  must 
into  the  lists,  &  straite  begin  to  iust. 

But  yet  w[i3thall  it  doth  us  much  behove 
that  we  take  heede  what  servants  we  aprove 
all  that  p[ro]test  their  love,  we  must  not  take 
for  some  of  them  will  make  o''  harts  to  ake 
y''  Roaring-boyes,  &  all  the  Drunken  crue 
my  vailed  Nuns  must  evermore  eschewe. 


.  1 


Mars  woos  the  wanton  nun  Adiana: 

I've  bin  a  Soldier  in  hotte  bloody  warre 
wherin  I  got  this  bone-deepe-gaping-scarre 
faire  flatteringe  speeche  we  soldiers  never  use 
yet  coyest  Lasses,  seldome  us  refuse 
we  fitter  are  for  action  than  for  words 
'tis  soldier-like  to  handle  naked  swords 
if  for  y""  Soldier  you  will  enterteyne-me 
from  kiUing  battles  I'le  henceforth  refreine-me 
He  fight  my  battailes  in  y''  beautious  campe 
I  meane  faire  Venus  sweete  encounters,  Rampe 
see  that  my  pay  be  good.  He  freely  fighte 
under  y''  standard,  or  by  day  or  nighte 
the  fielde  He  pitch  's  the  feild  bed  where  yo^  lye 
if  kild  w*^  kyndnes,  there  He  [walling]  dye. 

Ive  strength  &  might,  viewe  well  my  brawny  armes 
these  shall  secure  yo*^  from  all  future  harmes." 

The  following  is  from  a  story  told  by  the  ''Surgeon" 
on  the  return  voyage  from  Cadiz :  ^ 

Customes  though  bad  when  they  received  be 
that  th'are  allowed  we  all  plainely  see 
ffantasticks  often  fashions  doe  devise 
&  sober  mynded  men  take  up  their  guise 
1  Vol.  II,  fos.  47  ff.  »  Vol.  II,  fos.  138  ff. 


164  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Custome's  an  other  lawe  &  goes  for  good 
for  they  embrace  it  w''^  against  it  stood 
all  this  I  say  from  tufts  of  haire  nowe  used 
used  (said  I)  nay  monstrously  abused 
upon  their  foreheads  men  must  drakes  tayles  weare 
I  meane  a  tuft  of  most  unseemely  heare 
some  like  a  drakes  taile  close  turnd  to  the  head 
some  bolt  upright  as  men  w*^  feare  adread 
•  some  w*^  longe  locks  w°^  their  bald  pates  doe  cover 
some  vowed  locks  to  please  their  wanton  lover 
as  Tyme  is  pictur'd  w*^  a  Lock  before 
so  goe  the  riche  so  goe  likewise  the  poore 
for  th'  poorest  snakes  will  th'  greatest  imitate. 
This  being  a  comon  custome  growne  of  late 
to  weare  longe  f oretoppes  as  most  of  yo"  doe 
a  clowne  he's  counted  that  w[i]thout  doth  goe. 
a  plaine  mechanicke  fellowe  followed  it 
who  neither  had  much  wealth  nor  yet  much  witte 
comes  from  the  Barbers  where  his  haire  was  cut 
(in  Fryday  Streete  he  sawe  a  wondrous  rut) 
w*^  his  longe  foretoppe  standing  bolt  upright 
for  such  a  Noddie  an  unseemely  sighte. 

The  author  speaks  of  the  good  sense  of  Dulcimel  and 
Amoretta  in  Arcadia :  ^ 

If  many  had  such  states  as  had  these  two 
they  would  not  like  to  country  Shepeheards  goe 
but  like  to  Courtiers  clad  in  silke  &  gold 
strout  in  puft  pride,  as  full  as  they  might  holde. 
So  nowe  this  ioUy,  lovely,  amarous  payer 
had  wealth  &  beauty  more  then  many  a  gayer 
in  gew-gawes  &  in  garish  wanton  toyes 
they  never  plac'd,  the  least  p[ar]t  of  their  ioyes 
their  clothing  was  of  the  most  modest  fashion 
they  did  not  imitate  ech  f  orrein  Nation 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  26  £f. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      165 

apparrell  handsome,  seemely,  neate,  they  use 

but  welts  &  gardes,  &  tagges  ^  they  still  refuse 

best  cloth  w[i]thouten  lace,  they  ever  weare 

in  sobrest  manner  they  did  weare  their  heare 

both  he  &  she,  he  smooth  &  seemly  short 

not  w*^  longe  locks,  th'  abuse  of  Princes  court 

nor  yet  was  hers,  laid  out  w*^  p[ear]le  &  gold 

curiously  curld,  w***  many  a  wanton  fold 

nor  did  she  weare  the  haire  of  Curtezans 

nor  yet  of  Bauds  (who  former  lightnes  bannes) 

because  more  faire  then  hers,  nor  Beggars  brattes 

[peo]]pled  w*'^  Nittes,  w"^  growing  beastly  mattes, 

alas,  she  did  not  Tyre-makers  haunte 

for  devilish  [perr]iwiggs  that  well  might  daunt 

even  Mars  himself  should  he  o""  Ladyes  meete 

w***  borrowed  haire,  most  Gallants  would  him  greete 

Nay  I  mistake,  it  is  their  owne  they  weare 

they  did  it  buy  &  paid  for  it  full  deere 


their  Peakes  &  fronts,  half  moones  &  greate  Rams-hornes 
let  them  all  weare  that  would  be  th'  countries  scornes. 


She  neither  paints  her  face,  nor  curies  her  heare  ^ 

nor  like  a  Goldsmiths  wife  doth  lithping  thweare, 

nor  is  behounc'd  w*^  lace,  rebatos,  piccadils 

w**^  monstrous  bummes,  nor  yet  w***  short  light  heeles 

nor  in  the  brave  &  newe  Hie  Mulier  cut 

who  in  their  hose  &  dublets  themselves  put 

their  dublets  trust  w*^*^  poynts,  stilletto  by  their  side 

why  doe  o''  females  pricke  &  pranke  them  so 
but  that  th'  are  vendibles  that  all  may  knowe. 

^  This  word  is  blurred. 
2  Vol.  II,  fos.  29  verso  ff. 


166  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

The  author  attacks  the  man  who  has  bought  knighthood:  ^ 

When  proude  S""  Hadlande,  had  his  knighthood  boughte 

himself  a  God,  &  not  a  man  he  thought 

being  iust  Squired,  he  was  passing  proude 

but  nowe  much  more,  being  for  a  knight  alow'd. 

it  was  my  hap  one  tyme  being  on  ship-bourd 

that  he  came  hither  stragging  hke  a  Lorde 

I  wore  a  hatcht  sword.    See,  see  nowe,  (quoth  he) 

that  men  that  are  but  of  meane  degree 

weare  silver  on  their  swords  w*^^  lawe  forbiddeth 

for  unto  knights  it  only  that  p[er]mitteth 

'tis  pity  lawe's  no  better  executed 

his  hande  on's  sword  he  clapt,  &  so  did  I, 

but  durst  not  drawe,  ffie  cowheard  Hadland  fie! 

My  lande's  as  good  as  his  was  at  the  best 

I  was  myseh  a  Gentleman  at  th'  least 

nor  was  his  father  better  nor  yet  he 

till  w**^  his  coyne  he  purchest  his  degree 

Men  were  accustomed  that  use  to  ryde 
upon  their  cloakes  to  weare  on  either  syde 
a  claspe  of  silver,  'twas  a  neate  device 
but  only  't  would  a  hungery  theife  entice 
yet  this  brave  Gallant  bare  a  nobler  mynde 
then  Nobles  did,  who  used  but  that  kynde 
he  had  his  fayre  great  claspes  of  yealowe  gold 
the  richest  that  for  such  er  was  sold 
one  of  o'  gay-greene-gallants  was  this  knighte 
wearing  a  long-love-locke  for  his  delighte 
this  fonde  fantasticke  too,  his  cappe  was  greene 
a  faire  red  feather  in  't,  as  er  was  scene. 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  71  verso  flf. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     167 

The  author  travels  to  hell  in  order  to  see  the  fate  of  the 
popes :  ^ 

Yet  I  confesse  I  had  a  greate  desyre 

to  see  what  Popes  were  bathing  in  Hell-fyre 

only  I  fear'd  Garnet,  would  me  transporte 

to  viewe  his  Masters  glorious  shyning  court 

nor  other  meanes  could  I  devise  by  w'^'^ 

I  might  get  thither,  unles  by  some  Witch 

so  meting  w**^  the  ghost  of  Faulx  his  mother 

I  did  not  th'  healpe  implore  of  any  other 

She  [pro]mised  me  thither  to  transporte 

where  I  at  pleasure  might  se  all  the  sporte 

I  did  request  her  I  might  there  remaine 

untill  I  wisht  my  self  on  earth  againe 

that  I  from  hurte  might  Ukewise  be  made  free 

w*'^  she  most  solemnly  did  sweare  to  me 

w*^  that  a  bough  she  rent  (from  off  an  oake) 

of  Mistletoe,  &  th'  wronge  syde  of  my  cloak 

She  turned  outward,  &  put  't  on  my  backe 

the  bough  into  my  hand  &  bid  me  packe 

w**^  that  an  excellent  rare  chymicall-oyle 

she  gat  out  of  a  viole  w***  greate  toile 

(for  that  the  necke  therof  was  longe  &  small 

and  substance  in  it,  was  scarce  none  at  all) 

made  of  the  Honesty  of  an  old  whoare 

and  th'  seedes  of  P'earne,  w*^^  she  did  keep  in  store 

She  dipt  a  branch  of  Eugh  into  the  same 

nyne  tymes  she  called  Hecate  by  name 

3  tjTnes  she  turn'd  her  round  to  her  right  hand 

as  often  to  her  left,  then  made  a  stande 

then  3  tymes  more  she  turnd  her  to  her  right 

then  sent  me  packing  in  the  dead  of  th'  night 

in  un-knowne  language  to  her  self  she  mumbled 

and  I  forthw^i^th  like  to  a  whirle-^vynde,  tumbled. 

1  Vol.  II,  fol.  212. 


168  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

The  "Lady  in  Bed"  tells  the  midwife  and  the  visiting 
gossips  of  a  former  lover :  ^ 

I  being  a  pearle  in  amorous  Putex  eye 
he  sued  unto  me  for  my  deerest  Jewell 
and  w*^  my  presence  oft  enfiam'd  his  fuell 
one  while  he  wisht  that  he  were  made  a  Glove 
to  kisse  my  handes,  so  to  expresse  his  love, 
the  Chaine  of  pearle  that  compassed  my  necke 
that  so  he  might  embrace  it  w[i]thout  checke 
or  to  a  precious  Belt  of  beaten  gold 
that  so  he  might  me  in  his  armes  enfold 

or  if  a  creature  having  sense  &  motion 

then  Trym  my  Dogge,  attending  w**"  devotion 

because  he  often  lay  upon  my  lappe, 

where  sometyme  I  did  play  w*^  him  by  happe 

but  were  I  sure  (said  he)  t'  have  my  desyre 

I  would  I  were  a  Flea,  still  to  lye  by-her 

then  should  she  carry  me  where-ere  I  wente 

one  smocke  should  hold  us  both,  &  we  not  pente. 

The  aged  Saturn  falls  in   love  with   the  very  youthful 
Lady  May.^    He  apes  juvenility : 

for  he  began  him  self  to  decke  up  fyne 

he  oyld  his  face,  that  it  might  brightly  shine 

w**^  sweete  p[er3fumes  he  went  bepowdered  so 

that  in  the  darke  one  might  him  easely  knowe 

he  cald  to  have  his  lynnen  washed  white 

nowe  in  himself  he  gan  to  take  dehghte 

he  combd  his  heare,  his  beard  he  shorter  cut 

in's  fayrest  richest  robes  himself  he  put 

he  causd  his  Taylor  a  newe  sute  to  make 

&  carefully  bid  him  his  patterne  take 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  81  verso  ff.         ^  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  2  verso  £f. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     169 

his  hoped  ioye  nowe  maketh  him  to  skippe 

no  opportunity  he  letteth  slippe 

w^'^'s  Love  to  bill,  &  with  her  haire  to  playe 

and  then  he  wisheth  for  his  monthe  of  Maye. 

he  lookes  that  th'  seame  on's  hose  doth  rightly  stande 

he  often  stroakes  his  leggs  up  w*'^  his  hande 


his  shooes  he  caused  to  be  wyped  blacke 
riche  shooe-tye-roses,  there  he  doth  not  lacke 
his  garters  frynged  fayre  w*^  pearle  &  gold 
here  is  a  Laddie,  if  that  he  were  not  old 
a  goodly  feather  he  in  's  cappe  did  weare 
he  stroakes  his  beard,  &  stricketh  up  his  heare. 

Bacchus,  disguised  as  a  youth,  comes  to  London,  where  he 
meets  an  old  bawd.  She  tells  him  of  a  maid  "Putena 
hight,"  who,  because  she  deceived  Mercury,  was  transformed 
into  Puten  or  tobacco: 

And  Hermes  seing  's  Love  insatiate 
in  the  same  place  where  she  comitted  late 
her  foule  offence,  converted  her  straite  waye 
into  that  Herbe,  that  never  shall  decaye. 
w^^  by  her  name,  he  likewise  cald  Puten 
an  herbe  of  most  esteme  amongst  all  men. 
As  when  she  liv'd,  she  all  men  did  bewitche 
that  laye  w*^  her,  her  pleasure  then  was  suche 
even  so  Ukewise,  they  w*'^  the  Herbe  do  take 
are  still  bewitcht,  they  can  it  not  forsake 
but  still  insatiably  the  same  they  use 
whater  we  too  much  use,  we  doe  abuse. 
But  all  men  thus,  her  living,  did  desyre 
so  doe  they  nowe,  by  lighting  in  the  fyre 
the  sacred  Herbe  &  drawing  in  the  smoke 
out  of  a  pipe  of  silver  ^  of  claye,  or  oake. 

^  This  word  is  blotted. 


170  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

this  is  the  Herbe  w*''*  I  doe  give  to  yo" 
w[i]thin  my  garden  there  doth  growe  enough. 
But  what's  the  vertue  (quoth  he  to  the  Baude?) 
Of  all  Herbes  growinge  it  deserves  most  laude 
(answered  she  then)  —  'tis  heavenly  phisicke  sure 
for  it  all  kyndes  of  malladyes  doth  cure 
it  heales  y''  pocks,  sir,  and  y""  running  rheume 
y  '"stincking  breath,  it  sweetly  doth  p[er]fume 
y""  head-ache,  tooth-ache,  &  y""  runing  eyes 
&  quickly  cures  venerian  malladies 
y'  goute,  y''  dropsie,  &  y''  giddy  braynes 
y'  pissing  blood  &  running  of  the  veynes 
y'  swelling  some  saye  that  it  will  restore 
it  makes  yo"  purge,  both  backward  &  before 
upward  &  downeward  is  the  comon  speech 
to  say  the  troth,  yo'^  neede  no  other  leache 
who  take  this  herbe  Physicians  helpe  do  scorne 
they  hve  more  healthfully  then  th'  did  beforne.^ 
Some  Gallants  take  it  on  the  publique  stage 
other  to  drinke  it,  lay  their  cloathes  to  gage 
some  spende  as  much  in  this  same  smoake  a  yeare 
as  did  their  fathers  in  most  needeful  fyere 
yet  many  take  it  only  but  for  fashion 
some  to  expell  a  mellancholy  passion 
some  to  pull  downe  their  fat  &  puft-up-bellye 
some  to  extracte  their  flegmaticke  tough  gellye. 
Cariers  &  Tapsters,  Ostlers  &  Chamberlyns 
meeting  at  th'  Ale-house,  'tis  not  worth  two  pinnes 
unlesse  they  make  the  roome  of  Puten  smell 
sans  it,  their  liquor  tastes  not  half  so  well 
tis  comon  growne,  &  every  one  doth  use-it 
there  is  noe  'state,  nor  sex  that  doth  refuse-it. 
He  askt  her,  if  't  were  pleasant  in  the  taste? 
yea  if  w*^  some  sweete  oathes,  it  first  be  grac't, 

1  This  couplet  is  written  in  the  margin. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     171 

and  's  made  so  pleasing  being  steept  in  liquor 

that  th'  weakest  stomake  cannot  it  abhor 

or  by  Gradinus  ^  it  is  sweete  &  stronge 

it  gives  a  pleasant  farewell  to  the  tongue. 

is  't  Cane,  or  leafe,  or  ball,  or  puddinge,  whether 

or  Trynidado  &  of  th'  other  neither? 

is  it  Barmudez  or  is  it  Virginia 

or  els  right  Spanish,  &  the  two  Farina. 

or  did  it  growe  in  Narbons  neerest  soyle? 

for  they  have  made  this  poore,  rich  plant  to  toyle 

so  many  regions,  south  &  west  of  this 

that  our  owne  Nation  knows  not  o*"^  for  this 

it  is  so  bathd  &  steep't  &  stupified 

in  liquors,  strange,  that  I  have  it  deny'de 

and  sware  it  was  not  of  the  same  that  I 

had  growing  in  my  garden,  when  perdi  ^ 

it  was  the  very  same,  such  forced  power 

they  doe  infuze  into  it  every  hower. 

Some  Petum  call  it,  some  La-royne-mere 

Tobacco,  Petoun,  and  some  Nicotiana. 

and  some  the  soveraigne  Herbe  of  Gods-divine 

some  drinke  it  steeped  in  o''  whitest  wyne 

that  love  not  make  their  nostrils  chymny  tonnels 

nor  take  it  out  of  pipes  or  smoaky  funnels. 

Puten's  the  herbe  w*^^  all  men  love  amaine 

nowe  in  our  language  a  Punck  is  Putain 

a  whorish  vertue  still  this  herbe  conteynes 

for  from  the  same  manj^  derive  great  gaines 

no  pleasure  w[i]thout  cost  can  nowe  be  had 

wenching  &  Puten  maketh  most  men  mad 

some  call  it  Detrementum  Veneris 

I  rather  thinke  it  Iritamentum  is 

for  that  they  most  o""  companyes  frequent 

(flesh  they  will  have  in  Ope-tyde,  or  in  Lente) 

w*'^  take  this  Herbe.^ 

Mars.  2  par  dieu.  »  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  39  ff. 


172  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Neptune  loved  the  fair  nymph  Thames.     Because  of  her 
unfaithfulness  he  drove  her  lover  to  "Cocytus  shore"  and, 

Thames  he  confyned  w[i]thin  straighter  bounds 

to  water  Troynovants  ^  rich  pasture  grounds 

who  oftentynies  as  her  affection  moves 

doth  followe  him,  telhng  him  that  she  loves 

begging  a  pardon  for  that  one  offence 

who  churhshly  w**^  rageing  sends  her  thence 

and  w*"^  his  boysterous  surges  makes  her  flee 

to  London-bridge,  w'"^  is  her  sanctuarj^e. 

A  Bridge  that's  built  of  stone  tliat's  hewed  square 

of  aU  the  bridges  I  e're  sawe  most  rare 

in  it  are  twenty  Arches  as  they  saye 

through  ech  of  w''*^  the  Tyde  doth  dayly  playe 

ech  arche  conteynes  in  breadth  full  thirty  foote 

'twixt  w"*^  both  Boates  &  bigger  vessels  shoote 

ech  arche  is  twenty  foote  distant  asonder 

threscore  foote  high,  the  easyer  to  goe  under 

both  sydes  therof  is  housed  all  alonge 

w*^  Cellars  and  w*^  Shoppes  mixed  amonge 

that  one  a  very  streete  the  same  would  deeme 

were't  not  for  prospects  w*^^  theroft  are  seene 

it  is  a  thousand  foote  in  length  at  least 

and  over  Thames  it  standeth  east  and  west.^ 

Thames  is  pursued  by  a  rough  monster,  Pons,  who  woos 
her  in  vain :  ^ 

he  did  resolve  an  other  meanes  to  trye 

his  auncient  course  of  lawlesse  villanye 

even  beast-like  force :  when  nought  els  will  prevaile 

well  worth  a  meanes  that  never  yet  did  faile 

Who  would  stande  sueinge  in  an  abiecte  sorte 

to  a  disdainefuU  lasse,  that  makes  but  sporte 

^  London. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  52  verso  ff. 

*  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  53  verso  ff. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     ]  73 

of  mournefuU  elegies  &  sad  lovers  teares 
for  puling  suto'''^,  what  lasse  is  't  that  cares? 
the  swaggering  Ruffian  that  doth  violence  use 
the  nycest  Nymphe  will  never  (scarce)  refuse 
the  cutting  Shaver,  that  sweares  wounds  &  blood 
was  never  of  the  chastest  Nymphe  withstood 
Thus  did  he  harten  on  himself  unto 
that  impious  acte  he  purposed  to  doe 
he  therfore  Ijdng  in  wayte,  on  that  same  syde 
w*''^  we  call  Southwarke,  coming  he  her  spide 
all  faynte  &  weary  w*'**  a  carelesse  gate 
w*''^  she  had  like  t  'have  bought  at  deerest  rate 
in  's  boysterous  amies  he  caught  her  coming  by 
She  shrieked  out  &  w**^  loude  voice  did  crye 
Jove  seeing  this,  turnd  her  into  the  streame 
w'^**  nowe  is  called  Thames  by  her  name 
and  as  Pons  groveling  there  upon  her  laye 
he  him  transform'd  also  w[i]thout  delaye 
made  him  the  Bridge  of  w°*^  I  nowe  did  speak 
thus  Jove  on  him  his  anger  iuste  did  wreake 
but  make  him  swell  in  bignesse  and  in  length 
adorninge  it  w*^  beautye  &  w*^  strength 
(Tyme  hath  much  more  increast  &  beautifide 
this  glorious  building  nowe  on  every  syde.) 
this  being  an  acte  of  such  immortal  fame 
all  bridges  are  cald  Pontes  by  his  name. 
About  the  Arches,  Thames  doth  play  bo-peeke 
w*^  an}^  Troian  or  els  Merry-Greeke 

She  is  a  bounteous  benefactor  to  the  pore 
she  maynteines  many  hundreds  of  the  Oare  ^ 
many  are  set  on  worke  the  thred  to  spin 
many  to  knit  netts  to  catch  fishes  in 
many  that  live  w**^  angling  in  the  same 
She  kepeth  many  foules  both  wylde  and  tame. 

*  boatman. 


174  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

When  as  her  silver  sands  do  drye  appeare 
in  lowest  eb,  why  then  w*^  merry  cheere 
the  schoole-boyes  skippe  &  play  upon  the  shore 
where  erst  they  sawe  no  ground  appeare  before 
and  when  the  tyde  doth  there  returne  againe 
the  welkyn  being  cleere,  skye  void  of  rayne 
then  there  they  wash  &  bath  their  tender  lymbes 
some  by  the  shore  doe  wade  up  to  the  chinnes 
others,  their  fayre  white  bodyes  nymblye  drives 
as  if  they  swam  to  save  their  deere  freinds  lives 
seeminge  t'  outstrippe  the  waves  in  their  swift  course 
and  in  that  pleasant  art,  shewe  cuninge  force. 
One  turns  him  there  &  swyms  upon  his  backe 
shewing  the  fish,  an  arte  w'^^  they  doe  lacke. 


Some  pleasure  take,  to  stande  in  bordering  feild 
to  heare  Tamisis  echoing  voice  to  yeilde 
the  fayrest  Nymphes  of  all  the  Faiery-lande  ^ 
doe  often  walke  upon  her  pleasant  sande 
who  richly  tyr'd  in  precious  perle  &  gold 
w[i]thin  the  liquid  waves  them  selves  infold 
to  meete  w*^  other  Water-Nymphes  abroade 
whilest  on  the  waves,  the  Oares  lay  on  loade. 
Sometyme  the  Queene  ^  of  that  same  Faiery  lande 
doth  unto  Thames  reache  her  fayrest  hande 
that  shee  may  kisse  it;  &  for  her  more  grace 
when  she  removeth  oft  from  place  to  place 
she  will  not  goe  w[i3thout  her  Thames  deere 
who  feasteth  her  &  makes  her  royall  cheere 
and  proude  she  is,  more  then  of  ought  besyde 
that  Gloriana  on  her  backe  will  ride. 
Some  to  their  Ladies  fayre,  sweet  musique  make, 
that  all  the  neighbouring  Nymphs  may  it  p[er]take 
w*^  Cornet,  or  w**^  Trumpet  sounding  shrill 
that  Tritons  self,  amazed  standeth  still 

1  England.  2  Elizabeth. 


SELECTIONS  FROM   THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     175 

by  Neptunes  syde.     But  others  softly  playe 
on  stringed  instruments  that  be  so  gaye 
on  Cytterne,  Gitterne,  Viole  &  on  Lute 
and  some  with  courage  givinge  Drum  &  Flute. 

Her  bancks  are  buildings  of  no  meane  esteeme 

being  princely  graced,  by  a  resplendant  queene. 

and  all  the  greate  Magnifiques  of  the  lande 

w'^^  there  in  rankes  &  rowes  together  stands 

on  either  syde,  both  on  the  south  &  north 

her  sumptuous  buildings,  sets  her  honor  forth 

for  richer  Piles,  Europe  affourdeth  not 

Nature  &  Tyme  gave  Thames  this  happy  lot. 

Whitehall  on  North,  on  South  stands  Greenewich  fayre 

of  princely  seates  the  most  frequented  payre 

for  their  so  pleasant  &  swete  scituation 

their  walkes  are  troade  most  of  the  English  nation 

&  for  the  esaye  &  facile  accesse 

to  such  as  thither  pretende  busynes. 

That  proude  ambitious  stately  Cardinall  ^ 

did  first  foundation  laye  &  built  Whitehall 

but  Greenewitch  is  the  auncient  seate  of  Kings 

&  there  was  borne  the  Sainte  that  sweetliest  singes  * 

Greenewitch  renouned  for  birth  of  Glorian 

heaven  blest  that  kingdome,  in  that  more  then  woman. 

Upon  the  North  doth  famous  London  stande 

by  east  of  that  cheife  ffortresse  of  the  lande 

the  glorious  Tower  w°^  Julius  Caesar  built 

O'relooking-Paules,  &  rich-wrought-Westmynster 

are  Temples  of  cheife  note  w*^'^  they  prefer 

before  the  rest,  for  rareties  of  structure 

for  largenes  &  for  richest  Arch'tccture 

That  Greshams  worthy  worke,  Royall  Exchange 

Cheife  place  of  bargaine  &  of  newes  most  strange 

»  Wolscy.  2  Ehzabeth. 


176  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

The  Waterworkes  &  Conduits  goodly  fayre 
where  longe  in  earth  being  pent,  it  taketh  ayre. 
The  many  gorgeous  houses  of  the  Peeres 
w''^  still  increase  in  number  as  the  yeares. 
On  the  West  syde,  houses  of  Justice  stand 
Westmynster  hall,  &  then  fast  by  at  hand  * 
th'  Exchequer's  there  moe  offices  besyde.  ^ 

The  author  attacks  drunkenness: 

To  Stratford-house,  unto  the  Greene-goose-fayre 
a  world  of  people  one  day  did  repayre 
both  poore  &  riche,  men  likewise  old  &  younge 
mixt  w**^  the  males,  the  females  came  among 
the  season  of  the  yeare  as  usually 
was  parching  hotte,  the  wether  scorchinge-dry 
Hay-makers,  Mowers,  thither  did  repaire 
compeld  by  th'  soultry-hot-fyre-breathing-ayre 
the  extreame  heate  did  cause  an  extreame  thirst 
so  that  they  dranke  untill  they  almost  burst 
the  Townes  provission  of  sweete  liquor  faild 
wherfore  the  Ale-wj^es  harts  for  greife  so  quailed 
it  would  have  greivd  one  to  heare  them  lament 
for  that  so  sone  their  mippie-ale '  was  spent 

(quoth  one  t'  another)  I  could  well  have  vented 

thre  tymes  as  much,  thus  they  their  want  repented 

this  day  I  have  iust  fifty  shillinges  got 

by  Greene-goose-sauce  &  filling  short  the  pot. 

oh  this  Black-pot  it  was  the  best  device 

that  e're  was  found  t'  enrich  us  w*^  a  tryce 

I  might  as  easely  have  got  ten  pound 

this  day,  our  guestes  they  did  come  in  so  round 

for  meate  they  care  not  they  cry  all  for  drinke. 

^  This  line  except  Westminster  hall  is  crossed  out.  Above  is  written 
"wher  ther  are  daily  scand",  as  I  decipher  it. 

2  Vol.  I,  Part  I,  fos.  52  ff. 

'  Possibly  mippie  is  the  word  "nappie"  or  "napping,"  meaning 
"rare."     Cf.  Campion,  First  Booke  of  Ayres,  XX. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS     177 

After  a  long  description  of  the  drunken  revel,  of  a  fight 
in  the  inn,  and  of  the  red-nosed  host  and  the  wanton  hostess^ 
the  author  writes : 

Nowe  fitly  falles  it  to  my  taxing  pen 

to  shewe  th'  abuse  of  beastly  drunken  men 

and  their  Upholders :  you  guesse  who  I  meane 

not  only  Alehouse-keepers,  filthy  &  obscene 

though  they  the  Fathers  of  all  drunkards  be 

but  their  Grandfathers,  here  in  I'l  be  free 

and  will  ingeniously  expresse  my  mynde 

though  for  the  same  of  th'  bad,  ill  will  I  fynde. 

But  who  are  they?  even  Justices  of  Peace 

who  t'  have  their  wils,  whole  Towneships  doe  disease 

nay  doe  the  Country  w*^  such  vermyne  fill 

maintayning  them  in  their  lewde  courses  still 

who  lycence  p[er]sons  lewde  Alehousen  kepe 

if  in  submisse  wise  they  to  them  will  crepe 

and  give  them  worship  &  lowe  courtesy 

at  every  word  they  speake :  oh  foppery! 

Who  shalbe  Ij^cenced?     He  that  at  New-yeares-tyme 

can  happely  a  dosen  Mallard  lyme 

and  to  a  Justice  for  a  present  sende 

or  he  that  doth  his  Chrismas  diet  mende 

w*^  Capons  thre  or  fower,  or  Turkyes  fat 

an  eye  of  Phesants,  whist  noe  more  of  that 

speake  not  of  them  nor  j'et  of  Partriches 

taken  in  th'  nighte,  for  that  the  Justices 

should  such  offences  punish  by  the  lawe  * 

come  they  to  them,  they  value  't  not  a  strawe 

that  other  kepe  the  lawe  they  are  to  see 

but  from  observing  it  themselves  are  free 

He  that  my  Lady  first  ripe  Cherries  sends 

or  a  fayre  dish  of  Abricots  comends 

unto  her  Lady-ship,  He's  an  honest  man 

he  shalbe  lycenced  doe  what  yo"  can 

Yea,  but  he  keepes  ill  rule,  disorders  greate 

and  sometymes  helpes  the  Constables  to  beate 


178  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

when  they  come  hither  to  redresse  abuses 

unlawful!  Games  in  's  house  he  daily  uses 

whiles  Di\ane  service  some  at  Churche  doe  heare 

he  then  is  selling  of  his  ale  &  beere 

the  cheife  inhabitants  of  the  Towne  complaine 

of  misdemeano'^.     But  they  speake  in  vaine 

He  fees  his  Gierke,  he  makes  his  Hyndes  good  chere 

and  filles  their  skyns  oft  w*^  his  strongest  beere 

they  are  the  bane  of  this  o''  Gomon  wealth 

the  houses  where  men  are  depriv'd  of  health 

give  them  their  right  name,  th'are  Mal-housen  then 

the  Nursery  of  all  Pernicious-men 

the  Rendez  vouz  and  comon  meeting  place 

of  godlesse  p[er3sons,  quite  devoide  of  grace 

Theives,  Murderers  &  villaines  take  dehght 

to  squilk  ^  in  such  like  houses  night  by  night 

and  pray  you  tell  me,  howe  many  be  free 

but  that  they  comon  Bawdy-houses  be? 

Prisons  &  Gaoiles  they  fill  w*^  Malefactors 

against  good  lawes  they  ever  are  detracto""^ 

Spirituall  Gourts,  they  w*^  offenders  fill 

the  World  w*^  bastards:  yet  maintaine  them  still 

what  villany  but  had  'ts  begining  there 

th'are  Gounsell-housen  of  such  as  nought  feare 

howe  many  thousands  are  there  in  this  Isle 

that  might  be  spar'd,  that  nothing  doe  but  spoile 

younge-wanton-youths,  &  idler-aged-men 

for  every  thousand  would  there  were  but  ten 

but  then  these  Justices  would  much  complaine 

who  w**^  their  Glarkes,  share  ever  half  the  gaine 

for  Lycence-makinge :  they  would  greive  much  more 

that  pocket  all,  therby  to  increase  their  store 

and  leave  their  Glarkes  iust  nothing  for  their  paynes 

they  taking  all  what  to  their  men  remaynes. 

1  A  variant  of  "swill." 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     179 

so  nowe  o""  drunkards  tipling  there  will  sit 

untill  they  have  nor  honesty  nor  wit 

till  memory  &  sences  quite  doe  faile 

till  money's  spent  w''^  after  they  bewaile 

till  a  monthes  earnings  if  they  poore  men  be 

be  spent  at  th'  Tap-house  w*^  intemperancie 

an  howTe  or  two,  nay  half  a  day  is  small 

thre  dayes  together  they  for  hquor  call 

and  drinke  &  spue  &  sleepe,  then  to  't  againe 

the  drunken  Duch  at  first  did  this  professe 

the  soberer  English  thought  of  nothing  lesse 

but  w'are  turned  Duch,  or  worser  far  than  they 

doth  not  this  then  the  height  of  ill  bewray? 

But  oh  strange  thinge,  'tis  us'd  in  private  houses 

in  Justice-butteries  they  doe  drinke  carouses 

will  Justices  them  selves  nowe  sit  &  drinke 

untill  they  spue  or  doe  the  roome  bestinke? 

noe  mervaile  then  drunkards  unpunisht  goe 

when  they  should  punish  them  be  drunkards  too 

it  fares  w***  them  as  w**^  Officials 

who  lecherous  p^er^sons  to  account  oft  cals 

yet  nowe  are  worse  then  some  that  those  Courts  keepe 

nor  better  love  w*^  a  fyne  lasse  to  sleepe 

Is  not  vyce  punisht  well  the  while  I  pray? 

I  hope  there's  none  of  yo"  that  ^vill  say  nay. 

To  drinke  carouses  nowe  'tis  Knight-hke  growne 

for  they  from  other  men  would  fayne  be  knowne 

since  they  can  not  in  Garments  or  in  Wealths 

they  wilbe  knowne  by  their  carousing  Healthes 

six  or  seaven  healths  nowe  at  a  meale  they  have 

at  a  Knights  table  usually:  that's  brave.^ 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  236  ff. 


180  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

The  following  is  a  picture  of  a  young  man  ruined  by 
gambling: 

Swynburnus  was  a  lad  that  lov'd  to  play 

a  word  or  two  of  him  &  then  I'l  leave 

gameing's  a  trade  that  many  doth  deceive 

especially  those  that  a  trade  it  make 

to  pursing  many  men  it  makes  betake 

so  to  the  gallowes,  for  that's  the  conclusion 

it  many  thus  doth  bringe  to  sad  confusion 

yet  in  it  some  exceedingly  delight 

&  prosecute  the  same  both  day  &  nighte 

w*^  such  an  eager  appetite  I  saj'^ 

as  they  were  borne  but  only  for  to  play 

wheras  all  knowe,  gameinge's  for  recreation 

for  seriouser  busines  to  make  preparation 

of  o''  weake  myndes,  w*''^  if  they  alwaies  stand 

like  a  bowe  bente,  growe  crooked  out  of  hande. 

To  eate  &  drinke  &  play,  man  was  not  made 

but  every  man  must  exercise  some  trade 

I  mean  not  base,  mechanick,  manuall 

all  must  in  calling  live  both  greate  &  small 

w*'^  sweate  on  's  browes  man  was  ordaind  to  live 

before  by  sin  he  did  Jehovah  greive. 

when  of  this  universall  fabrique  he 

was  a  Lord  absolute  &  from  sin  yet  free 

o'"  Gallants  nowe  though,  thinke  much  otherwise 

&  by  that  error  doe  their  lives  disguise 

of  the  w^^  nombre  was  Swnyburnus  one 

then  he  more  pleasure  took  in  't  never  none 

but  not  for  nought,  he  made  of  it  greate  gayne 

for  he  was  ever  in  the  getting  veyne 

of  his  p[ro]genito'"^  I  litle  say 

they  nowe  are  dead  &  lapped  lye  in  clay 

his  ancesto'"^  left  liim  noe  meanes  to  live 

his  wante  of  meanes  him  first  to  London  drive 

where  in  a  ser\dce  he  pickt  up  his  crummes 

that  at  the  Playhouse  he  tooke  cheifest  roomes 


SELECTIONS   FROiM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     181 

and  then  did  take  on  him  the  gentleman 

he  w**^  the  best  to  ruffle  it  began 

then  Ordinaries  he  begins  frequent 

then  unto  gaming  he  his  study  bente 

it  followed  well  his  hande  he  got  thereby 

■^ch  ^th  jj^Qi-g  eagernes  made  him  it  plie. 

on's  play  he  liv'd,  as  many  Gamesters  doe 

who  in  apparrell  doe  as  gallant  goe 

as  Landed-men  &  of  reA'enues  greate 

&  keepe  as  good  a  diet  in  their  meate 

that  he  grewe  rich:  d'ye  wonder?  why  d'ye  so; 

the  chaunce  of  Gamesters's  variable  you  knowe 

Dice-players  lucke,  oftner  then  th'  w^nde  doth  change 

in  gamesters  wealth  certainte  were  strange. 

the  tyde  runs  w***  them  this  day,  they  get  all 

the  next  they  into  many  losses  fall 

in  thinges  on  earth  noe  stedfastnes  we  finde 

not  in  th'  most  stable,  that  should  be  mans  mynde 

would  any  man  then  ever  looke  to  see 

the  gamesters  happe  alwayes  alike  to  be 

that  of  all  other  is  th'  uncertainst  trade 

one  cast  a  Gent,  next  a  Beggar  made 

one  day  on  this  side  th'  n^Tnble  bones  do  run 

the  next  day  so,  that  he  is  quite  undon 

Examples  more  than  this  I  neede  not  showe 

there's  scarcely  no  man  but  he  it  doth  knowe 

But  to  Swnburnus  to  returne  againe 

who  still  delighted  in  his  gameing  veyne 

a  thousand  pounds  &  half  well  nigh  he  got 

at  one  bare  sitting  such  was  then  his  lotte 

the  thousand  pounds  he  straite  put  out  to  Use 

thus  his  successe  begot  an  other  abuse 

w***  some  of  th'  rest  he  went  &  paid  his  debts 

and  his  estate  he  then  in  order  sets 

the  surplussage,  a  gameing  stocke  he  made 

the  next  day  freshhe  goeing  to  his  trade 


182  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

but  then  a  stronge  tyde  did  against  him  run 

he  lost  all  's  gaine,  was  utterly  undon 

his  whole  estate  he  at  that  meeting  lost 

&  nigh  five  hundred  pounds  more,  let  him  boast 

then  for  foure  hundred  pounds  he  gave  his  bond 

thus  shewed  he  himself  most  foolish  fonde 

to  th'  Taverne  went,  put  Ratsbane  in  his  wyne 

&  w*^  the  same  his  Uves  thrid  did  untwine.^ 

The  author  attacks  unscrupulous  doctors: 

Neere  unto  Malverne  Hilles  a  widdowe  dwelt 
I  would  her  father  had  bin  surely  gelt 
before  he  gat  her:  she  a  dogleache  was 
I  doe  not  well  knowe  howe  it  came  to  passe 
but  she  cur'd  some,  as  blynde  men  hit  the  throwe 
't  was  more  by  happe  then  by  her  arte  I  knowe 
one  med'cyne  used  she  for  ech  disease 
w**^  filthy  oyntments,  she  did  all  men  greaze 
that  came  unto  her,  whither  't  were  a  wounde 
an  Ague-soare,  or  legges  that  were  unsounde 
whither  a  Wolfe  or  Noli-me-tangere 
ache  in  the  ioynts,  or  cureles  Dissentorie 
Lues  Veneria,  w"*^  some  call  the  Poxe 
her  Physicke  all  comes  out  a  stinking  boxe 
there  w*^  she  sweates  her  Patients  every  one 
till  some  of  them  sende  out  their  latest  groane 
she  poisons  most,  that  she  doth  take  in  hande 
it  is  greate  pitty  none  doe  countermande 
her  bold  presumption:  Much  they  are  too  blame 
Physicians  suffring  her,  their  arte  to  shame 
some  that  came  to  the  Well  their  health  to  get 
she  hath  nigh  kild  by  lajang  them  in  sweate 
such  Empericks  doe  kill  more  then  they  cure 
oh  dwelt  I  neere,  I  could  it  not  endure 
her  name  agrees  w*^  her  filthy  nature 
her  forme  tell  wo  that,  she's  of  an  ugly  stature 
1  Vol.  II,  fos.  116  verso  ff. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     183 

't  is  mother  Beaste,  a  very  beaste  indeede 
would  she  were  surely  trust  in  hempen-weede 

Many  such  cheating  Mates  doe  walke  about 
such  one  was  here,  a  foule,  unhandsome  Loute 
his  name  he  sayes  is  Dee,  a  very  knave 
he  layes  his  Patients  too,  in  a  dry-bath 
can  neither  write,  nor  reade,  nor  cast  a  state 
yet  he  gives  physicke,  a  most  cooseninge  Mate 
a  lewde  Imposter,  he  much  mischeife  workes 
he  squilkes  in  corners  &  in  odde  holes  lurkes. 
You  Life-prolongers,  whom  true  arte  doth  guide 
can  yo"  these  life-deprivers  thus  abide 
y[ou]rselves  to  wronge,  to  harme  the  Comonwealth 
rewarde  ye  such  w*^  hanging,  as  for  stealth 
for  they  are  worse  then  theives,  they  murderers  are.^ 

A  picture  of  a  tavern  quarrel: 

The  next  thinge  that  I  p[ro]mised  to  tell 
it  was  of  ffighters  if  I  reckon  well 
two  of  w''*'  trade,  lewde  despate  &  bold 
met  once  together  as  I  have  bin  told 
strangers  they  were  &  never  met  before 
both  w'^^  did  quarrell  for  a  paltry  whore 
I  meane  a  Curtizan  a  comon  one 
who  for  reward  refused  never  none 
she  was  conducted  by  two  Aplesquires 
unto  a  Taverne  nere  unto  the  Fryers 
both  of  the  Ruffians  doggd  her  all  the  way 
She  being  housed  thus  began  the  play. 
One  knewe  her  by  her  name,  whom  most  men  knows 
that  did  desyre  it,  I'le  not  name  her  though 
they  through  the  Taverne  pac'd  w*''  wondrous  haste 
untill  the}'  found  the  roome  where  she  was  plac't 
at  tables  upper  ende  alone  she  sate 
on  either  side  she  had  her  Pandor  mate 
1  Vol.  II,  fos.  98  verso  ff. 


184  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

who  for  a  Gent  her  thither  man'd 
thinking  all  thre  to  get  well  by  the  hande 
a  pynte  of  wync  they  were  a  drinking  then 
when  in  at  dores  there  came  thes  boysterous  men. 
his  supper  there  they  had  bespoke  that  nighte 
(quoth  one  of  these  that  knewe  her  by  the  sight) 
come  wench  w*^  me  (&  called  her  by  her  name) 
to  walke  w*^  such,  y'are  very  much  too  blame 
as  dare  not  fight,  come  goe  away  w*^  me 
and  who  dares  touch  thee  nowe,  faine  would  I  see 
he  by  the  hand  puld  her  from  th'  tables  end 
stay  (said  the  other)  yet  a  while  my  freinde 
she's  none  of  yCou]""^,  I  first  came  in  at  dore 
yes  (quoth  the  first)  S'',  but  she  is  my  whore 
&  I  this  night  intend  w*'^  her  to  lye 
(oh  monstrous  height  of  damnd  impietie 
howe  dare  men  bragge  &  boast  thus  of  their  sin 
who  knowes  their  lewdnes  they  care  not  a  pin 
these  are  the  Cursed  brood,  the  Damned  crue 
&  Roaringe  boyes,  w*^^  noe  foule  vice  eschewe) 
ech  Coward  Mastife  for's  soute  bytch  wiU  fighte 
answered  the  other,  &  in  thy  despighte 
or  I  wiU  have  her,  or  thou  shalt  win  her  deere 
if  th'art  a  Mettall-man  let  't  nowe  appeare 
the  Pandors  both  they  shrunk  away  for  feare 
the  swaggering  youth  to  fight  did  fast  prepare 
whilest  w*^  the  noise  the  roome  w**^  folke  was  fild 
saving  mad  blood  w*'^  should  even  there  be  spild 
in  th'  mydst  of  th'  broyle  the  Gent  he  came 
&  quietly  he  seized  on  his  game 
these  Ruffians  yet  their  manhod  vow'd  to  showe 
being  brought  downe  into  the  roome  belowe 
next  day  they  both  appoint  to  meete  in  feilde 
both  being  despate,  ech  did  scorne  to  yeilde. 
On  horsebacke  mounted  well,  they  mette  at  first 
ech  being  resolved  there  to  do  his  worste 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     185 

when  first  their  pistols  they  discharged,  straite 
w*^  their  short  swords  to  heawe  ech  other  waite 
their  traversing  their  ground,  their  wards,  &  blowes 
ech  ffence-schoole-boy,  he  all  of  them  well  knowes 
the  ende  was  this,  they  did  ech  other  kill 
thus  of  revenge  they  both  had  even  their  fill.^ 

An  attack  on  women  who  refuse  to  nurse  their  children: 

yet  such  a  cursed  custome  nowe  is  got 
richest  mens  children  have  th'  unhappiest  lotte 
they  must  have  Hedge-sparowes  their  younge  to  nurse 
I  meane  their  Nurses :  so  they  make  a  curse 
of  that  w*^^  once  a  blessing  seem'd  to  be 
't  was  first  allowed  for  necessetie 
when  parents  dyed,  or  had  noe  milke  to  give 
when  weaknes  hindred,  or  soore  breasts  did  greive 
nowe  scoundrels  base,  having  small  wealth  acquired 
being  brought  a  bed  must  have  their  Nurses  hyred 
and  shame  not  t'say,  They'le  knock  them  on  the  heade 
before  they'le  nurse,  the  children  they  have  bred, 
unmotherly,  unnaturall  beastes  be  they 
w*^^  doe  not  feare  such  cursed  wordcs  to  say 
mee  seemes  it  is  a  thinge,  unnaturall 
w*''^  is  not  practisd  by  th'  brute  animall, 
they  nurse  the  younge  ones  w'^^  themselves  doe  beare 
and  sockld  them  w*^  more  then  mothers  care 
shall  brute  beastes  then  growe  mothers,  mothers  beastes? 
they  then  are  guided  by  Priap's  beheastes. 
'tis  not  the  case  of  Noblewomen  nowe 
but  even  of  Clownes  wives,  if  th'  have  wealth  enough, 
it  seemes  the  riche  are  borne  but  for  their  pleasure 
wherin  they  take  their  fill  above  all  measure 
the  poorer  sorte,  must  w*^  their  cliildren  take 
unwearied  paynes,  &  why?  for  monyes  sake. 
Though  this  be  bad,  yet  many  doe  much  worse 
they  put  their  children  to  lighte  ones  to  nurse 
1  Vol.  II,  fos.  115  verso  ff. 


186  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

have  they  proportion,  neatnesse,  comelynesse 
unto  such  Nurses  they  themselves  adresse 
to  th'  inclynation  of  the  mynde  yo"  looke  not 
so  w*^  their  vices,  yo"  y[ou]'"  children  blot 
who  doe  not  sucke  it  only  from  their  Nurses 
but  b'  imitation,  so  p[ar]take  their  curses 
this  is  the  cause  y[ou3r  heires  degenerate 
ye  noble  bloods;  for  they  them  vitiate.^ 

The  following  is  taken  from  the  story  of  the  Voluntarie 
Gent  on  the  return  trip  from  Cadiz: 

"that  very  night  Corncaput  he  came  by 

on  th'  other  syde  the  streete,  the  Watch  him  spie 

a  Gent  he  was,  but  money-lesse 

a  beggarly  one  I  must  nedes  confesse 

't  was  then  nigh  Mid-night  &  they  cald  amaine 

he  under  th'  penthouse  went  to  shun  the  rayne 

and  eke  to  hide  him  from  their  viperous  eyes 

whilest  th'  Constable  apace  unto  him  cryes 

why  who  goes  there,  why  stande,  come  hither  S"^ : 

one  w**^  the  sconce,^  thre  browne  bils  ^  made  such  stir 

w***  crying  stop,  stop,  followe  the  fellon  stoute 

Wee'le  search  all  nighte,  but  we  \\\\\  finde  him  out."  * 

The  author  in  the  passage  below  tells  of  a  certain  Captain 
Swan: 

'Mongst  many  guests  at  this  so  royall  feaste  * 

of  one  I'le  tell  yo"  nowe  a  prety  least 

a  propper  tall  red  bearded  Gentleman 

his  name  I  thinke  was  gallant  Captaine  Swan 

a  sea  captaine :  captaines  often  sharke  ^ 

being  bold  brave  Brittons  when  they  do  want  worke 

»  Vol.  II,  fos.  191  ff.  "  Vol.  II,  fol.  163. 

*  lantern,  street  lamp.  *  Marriage  of  Princess  Elizabeth. 

^  military  weapon.  «  Shirk. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS        187 

a  Captain  in  tyme  of  peace  is  like  a  Nun 

there  living,  where  Rehgion  is  undon 

sometymes  I  see  them  walk  in  Paules  in  buffe 

w*'*  great  gold  lace,  all  poynted,  mary  muffe; 

much  like  to  Panderesses,  when  their  game  is  over 

our  captaines  oft  from  Calais  come  to  Dover. 

Captaine,  sometyme  it  was  a  noble  name 

but  is  nowe  growne  base,  for  they  themselves  defame 

by  haunting  Pickthach,  White-fryers  hot-houses 

to  bill  &  bed  w*^  those  same  prety  Douses 

but  like  the  Lapwing  I  cry  from  my  neast 

I  promised  to  tell  yo"  of  a  ieaste. 

The  first  course  being  serv^ed  to  the  table 

(I  tell  no  legend,  nor  no  Poets  fable) 

as  thicke  as  they  could  stand  there  one  by  one 

voyde  place  on  th'  table,  there  was  suerly  none 

nay  scarcely  roome  to  lay  their  trenchers  on 

yet  many  dishes  other  stood  upon 

this  Captain  being  amongst  other  set 

about  myd-table,  he  began  to  fret 

to  chaufe  &  sweate  &  could  noe  longer  sit 

for  he  was  taken  w**^  a  grievous  fit 

not  of  an  Ague,  nor  the  CoUick  neither 

it  may  be  though,  it  was  a  Lurdain-feaver 

he  gap't  &  sweate,  &  wyp't  his  angry  browe 

I  know  not  wherfore  sure :  I  pray  do  yo"? 

first  soldier-like,  3  or  4  oathes  he  brake 

but  besydes  them,  ner  a  ^\ise  word  he  spake. 

being  on  the  benche  syde,  he  ore  th'  table  skipt 

would  he  not  skip  well  if  he  had  bin  whipt 

he  curse  &  swore  &  out  of  dores  he  got 

w"*^  did  astonish  all.     One  said  the  pot 

he  thought  distempered  so,  his  weaker  braynes 

that  th'  sent  of  meate  to  get  him  gon  constraines 

One  said  because  an  other  Captain  came 

that  by  a  tricke  had  coosen'd  him  of  's  dame 


188  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

An  other  said  because  he  had  no  knife 

he  gat  him  gon :  thus  mens  conceits  wer  rife 

nowe  every  one  shew'd  liis  opinion 

why  th'  captaine  went  away  so  w***  a  wenion. 

not  one  of  all  did  hit  the  nayle  on  th'  heads 

had  he  stay'd  still  he  suerly  had  bin  dead 

I  know  yo"  longe  to  heare  the  cause  of  it 

I'le  tell  yo"  straite  so  3^0^  will  silent  sit 

it  was  because  a  Pigge  came  to  the  table 

w'^^  to  abide  by  no  meanes  he  was  able 

was  not  the  Swan  worthy  to  be  made  a  Goose 

that  such  a  dynner  for  a  pigge  would  loose. 

I  thinke  he  was  a  Capten  sine  I 

of  him  good  sir,  I  praj''  yo^  what  thinke  yee? 

I  knewe  the  like  by  one  that  nould  ^  endure 

to  see  a  Goose  come  to  the  table  sure 

some  cannot  brooke  to  se  a  Custarde  there 

some  of  a  Cheese  doe  ever  stande  in  feare 

&  I  knowe  one  if  she  Tobacco  see 

or  smels  the  same,  she  swoones  imediately 

the  like  of  Roses  I  have  heard  some  tell 

touch  but  the  skyn  &  presently  'twill  swell 

&  growe  to  blisters :  the  reason  it  is  this 

twixt  them  &  these  ther's  such  antithesis 

that  snakes  in  bed,  or  toades  in  drinke's  not  more 

against  their  natures  then  these  nam'd  before.^ 

J.  M.  shows  the  fickleness  of  patrons: 

Ambitious  men  clymbe  up  on  j^cie  stayres 

to  their  proude  seates  &  their  liigh  mounted  chayres 

they  creepe  up  slowely,  Uke  the  slymie  snaile 

to  leave  their  silvery  slyme  they  doe  not  faile 

but  when  they  are  up  mounted  aU  aloft 

they  come  downe  w*^  a  vengeance  hea[d]longe  oft 

^  would  not. 

*  Vol.  II,  fos.  256  ff.    This  passage  recalls  Shylock's  dislike  of  vari- 
OUB  kinds  of  people.    Cf.  Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  IV,  Sc.  I. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS     189 

as  huge  Oakes  fall,  or  Towers  come  tumbling  downe 

so  in  disgrace  ends  all  their  high  renowne 

money  or  els  obscene  &  filthy  hfe 

doth  many  raise,  it  is  a  thinge  most  rife. 

.  .  .  fewe  raise  their  fortunes  soe 

unles  they  will  ranke  villaines  prove,  aU  knowe 

for  he  that  serves  one  Noble  or  of  Note 

in  Court  or  Country  &  doth  weare  his  coate 

there  may  he  spende  &  waste  his  youthful!  dales 

in  swilling,  swearing,  whoaring  &  in  playes 

in  pryde,  in  ryot,  &  all  kynde  of  vyce 

for  all  doe  thus  except  some  fewe  more  wise, 

but  one  crosse  word,  the  coate's  puld  o're  their  eares 

turn'd  out  of  doares  &  no  man  for  them  cares 

thus  seaven  yeares  service  I  have  seene  rewarded 

&  for  as  litle  many  a  man  discarded 

the  least  fault  that  a  servant  can  comit 

he  oft  is  turned  out  of  doares  for  it 

yea  oftentymes  when  he  is  innocent 

&  for  noe  fault  at  all,  can  once  be  shent. 

who  thrives  by  sen-ice  then?     I'le  tell  yo"  who 

he  that  the  bacest  offices  will  doe 

he  that's  a  fawning  flattering  Siccophant 

p[er3haps  his  master  wall  not  let  him  wante 

he  that  wilbe  a  Pandor  for  his  Master 

although  sometyme  he  be  him  self  his  taster.^ 

R^  The  following  excerpts  are  taken  from  a  story  of  a  jealous 
husband.  The  author  dilates  on  the  fact  that  a  woman  can 
always  deceive  a  man.  One  lover  comes  disguised  as  a 
woman  peddler,  another  as  a  fortune  teller: 

...  he  comes  anon 

w***  a  greate  packe  of  Pedlers-stuffe  at  's  backe 

and  there  aloude  he  asked  what  d'ye  lacke 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  264  flf. 


190  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

white  Lawne  or  Cambrick,  or  els  Holand  fyne 

Scotish  cloth  or  Callico  w"^  beinge  shckt  doth  shine 

fyne  Diaper  or  Damask  I  will  sell 

for  powers  sweet  I  only  beare  the  bell 

caules  for  y"^  head,  silk  riband  for  y'^  hears 

I  want  no  kynde  of  dainty  womens  ware 

I'le  pins,  shewe  yo"  thimbles,  nedles  or  boulace 

all  w"*^  &  more  he  spake  w**^  such  a  grace.^ 

.  .  .  under  beggers  cloake  he  ^  hived 

all  tome  &  patcht,  much  like  the  very  same 

our  old  Roagues  weare  nowe  for  their  greater  fame 

He  came  I  say  unto  Costerus  ^  gate 

where  hke  a  Begger,  he  aloud  did  prate. 

A  mayde  past  by,  he  cald  her  him  unto 

as  if  he  would  some  message  to  her  doe 

(quoth  he)  I  see  thou  wouldst  thy  fortune  knowe 

come  let  me  see  thy  hand,  I  will  it  showe, 

Thou  hast  a  false  dissembling  love  I  sweare 

for  he  hath  set  his  hart  in  place  els  wheare 

he's  but  a  cupbord  wooer  me  beleve 

he  kist  thee  thrice,  when  last  he  tooke  his  leave 

thou  hadst  an  other  w*^^  did  love  thee  better 

and  of  his  name  Richard  was  the  first  letter 

w**^  this  away  went  she  &  sent  an  other 

come  on  (said  she)  thou  lovest  Gregories  brother 

a  maried  man,  thou  lovest  him  too  late 

if  thou  hadst  loved  him  first,  th'  hadst  better  fate. 

A  man  came  then  w*^  victuals  in  his  hand 

a  plough-iogge-swaine,  one  w*^  the  sun  all  tand 

to  whom  he  said  if  thou  this  mayde  dost  marry 

whom  thou  lovest  well,  er  thou  seaven  yeare  dost  tarry 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  19  verso  ff. 
^  The  fortune  teller,  Mercury. 
3  The  husband. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     191 

by  her  freinds  death  she  shall  enrich  the  so 

that  thou  shalt  never  nede  to  plough  to  goe. 

An  other  wench  w*^  that  came  running  fast 

desired  to  know  some  secrets  that  were  past 

Hearke  in  thine  eare  then,  thou  the  (       )  didst  play 

in  yonder  orchard  on  a  Mary  day 

w***  flea  in  eare,  away  then  went  the  mayde 

and  to  her  mistres  thus  she  (angry)  said 

this  man  I  warrant  him  is  a  very  knave 

he  tels  things  past,  to  come,  so  Gods  me  save.^ 

The  following  is  taken  from  a  story  of  Arcadia.     The 
heroine,  we  are  told,  was  not 

.   .   .     coye  and  nyce  as  in  this  age 

o'  maydes  are  nowe  of  stately  cariage 

proude  in  their  gate,  apparell,  countenance 

(I  speake  not  I,  of  Italy  &  France 

nor  of  gold-thirsty  Spaine,  but  amongst  us 

I  say  o"^  damsels  are  superbious) 

yea  in  their  speeche  &  every  kynde  of  way 

if  garments  be  well  shaped,  riche,  or  gaye 

if  beauty  too,  have  somewhat  dy'de  their  face 

then  to  be  proude  they  hold  it  for  a  grace.^ 

This  Amoretta  had  many  lovers,  among  them  a  youth 
from  England  who  was  ardent  in  his  wooing: 

Amongst  this  crue  was  one  from  Fayery  come 
who  amongst  them  had  purchased  a  Roome 
a  ioUy  Shepeheard  was  he  young  &  bold 
till  for  her  love  his  liberty  he  sold 
none  of  th'  Arcadians  was  so  passionate 
as  was  this  Stranger  that  was  come  of  late 
he  courts  his  Love  w*^  pleasant  Madrigals 
Odes  Sonets,  Elegies,  Canzons,  Pastorals 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  22  verso  flf. 
*  Vol.  II,  fos.  22  verso  ff. 


192  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

w*^  such  delightful  ditties  as  might  make 
chorlish  Diogenes,  some  pleasure  take. 

A  Lookinge-glasse,  he  gat,  &  sente  to  her 

the  superscription  on  it,  Beauties  Mirror 

the  first  fold  opened  did  conteyne  these  words 

only  her  praises  that  first  syde  affourds. 

^'My  Love,  like  Luna,  sMneth  wondrous  brighte 

all  creatures  in  the  world  ioye  at  her  sighte 

She  ads  more  glorie  unto  Women-kyne 

as  the  bright  Moone  to  Starres,  when  she  doth  shyne." 

On  the  inmost  fold  of  's  paper  he  had  writte 
these  verses  following  for  his  purpose  fit 
"The  perfect  picture  of  that  Goddes  greate 
to-whome  sweete  Venus  hath  resigned  her  seate 
here  may  You  see,  and  only  you  alone 
without  your  presence  she  is  sene  of  none 
if  well  you  looke  on  this,  here  you  may  see 
an  exacte  Image  of  divine  beautie" 

A  Robin  Red-breast  he  in  's  chamber  spied 
the  w°^  to  catch  he  all  his  skill  applyed 
about  his  Love  intending  him  to  use 
as  thus  he  sate  in  a  sore  heavy  muse 

writing  fewe  lynes,  about  his  necke  him  tyde 
thus  speaking  to  him  at  that  present  tyde. 
"Thou  kinge  of  birds  art,  yet  a  thrall  to  me 
many  thus  captive,  should  of  right  goe  free 
thy  durance  is  constreind,  being  held  by  mighte 
such  durance  I  doe  seeke  &  crave  as  righte 
I  am  her  Captive  &  doe  me  submitte 
were  shee  my  keeper,  I'd  be  glad  of  it 
such  thraldome  as  thou  sufferest  I  desyre 
that  soe  her  presence  might  me  set  on  fyre. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS      193 

Nowe  goe  to  her  &  shewe  her  these  sad  lynes 
of  my  captivity  the  woeful!  signes 
for  thy  poore  M'^ :  poore  f oole  pleade  thou  well 
with  lamentable  sighs,  his  sad  tale  tell 
with  bodies  perrill,  his  soules  passions  showe 
that  so  she  may  the  certaine  truth  on  't  knowe. 
I  doe  not  doubt  but  she  will  set  thee  free 
if  see,  then  bid  her  Uke  wise  pitty  mee."  ^ 

The  author  writes  of  the  attack  on  Cadiz : 

Whilest  o*^  Eliza  of  blest  memory 

did  in  this  kingdome  hold  the  soveraigntie 

many  heroicke  spirits  for  th'  comon  good 

offred  to  venture  even  their  deerest  blood 

who  such  an  expedition  undertooke 

as  a  more  brave  was  never  writ  in  booke 

Essex  &  Howard  both  Liuetenants  were 

&  both  were  Admiralls,  who  soone  prepare 

w**'  a  small  nomber  their  brave  spirits  to  showe 

that  all  the  world  may  English  valour  knowe 

when  May  began  to  deck  the  earth  w*^  flowers 

then  'gan  these  Nobles  trym  their  watry  bowers 

wherin  t'embarke  them,  even  a  Royall  Fleete 

w*'^  for  high  spirits  is  a  thinge  most  meete 

seaventene  shippes  Royall,  thre  the  Lord  Admirals 

these  are  indeede  our  Englands  wooden  wals 

th'United  States  brought  fower  &  twenty  saile 

a  hundred  &  six  other  did  not  faile 

Men  of  Warre,  Merchants,  &  Vitulars 

offer  their  service  unto  these  bright  starres 

The  Navy  Royall  thus  it  did  consist 

of  seaven  score  ten  saile,  count  them  if  j'o"  list 

wherin  were  shipt  above  ten  thousand  men 

w*'''  mette  at  Plymouth  &  put  forth  agen 

The  first  of  June,  a  warninge  peice  discharg'd 

they  weighed  ancho"^,  &  their  sailes  cnlarg'd 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  23  ff. 


194  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

a  prosperous  wynde  did  bringe  them  to  the  place 

wheras  they  meante  their  valo"^  to  uncase 

On  June  the  twenty  they  did  there  arive 

where,  many  wisht  them  dead  that  were  aUve 

the  Cadizans  I  meane,  in  Cadiz  that  dwelt 

who  quake  for  feare,  er  they  o"^  power  felt 

where  twenty  gallies,  fower  score  &  ten  shippes  lay 

(when  we  approched)  w[i]thin  Cadiz  Bay 

five  of  the  w''^  Apostles  were  of  Spaine  ^ 

who  doubtles  praid  that  fyre  from  heaven  might  rayne 

upon  o"^  ffleete :  but  none  effecte  it  tooke 

but  passing  that,  to  themselves  let  them  looke, 

two  greate  Galliasses,  Frigats  likewise  thre 

thr    Argosies,  twenty  of  Biscanie 

the  rest  in  nomber  seaven  &  fifty  saile 

were  Merchants  shippes  whose  courages  did  faile 

yet  were  of  burden  greate  &  richly  loade 

but  they  forsooke  the  place  where  they  aboade 

&  shot  into  a  dangerous  narrowe  Bay 

the  w'''^  was  full  of  Rocks,  Sandes,  Shelves  (they  say) 

o"^  shippes  pursued  them  through  these  dangers  greate 

and  presentlie  w*^  thondering  shot  them  beate 

that  the  greate  Phillip,  Spaines  great  Admyrall 

could  fight  noe  longer :  then  gave  over  all 

they  fyred  it  &  sought  to  swym  to  lande 

th'  Apostle  Thomas  being  next  at  hande 

he  did  the  like  the  rest  then  of  the  fflete 

for  their  most  safety,  they  did  hold  it  meete 

in  th'  bay  Port  real,  themselves  t'run  aground 

for  fighting  they  must  taken  be  or  drownd. 

The  Navy  thus  at  sea  disperst  &  beate 

Essex  wh's  troopes  landed  in  all  the  heate 

leaving  the  sea-fight  when  he  sawe  them  fly 

under  the  Blockhouse  landing  imediately, 

some  Regiments  to  stoppe  supplie  from  th'  maine 

made  to  the  Bridge  w*''^  easely  they  obteine 

^  The  five  largest  ships  were  named  after  Apostles. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWS  METAMORPHOSIS     195 

Essex  meane  while  doth  to  the  Towne  advance 
where  we  were  hindered  by  the  Ordinance 
He  caught  his  Coolers  into  Towne  them  cast 
then  o're  the  Walle  the  Enghsh  leaped  fast 
happie  was  he  first  hold  on  them  could  lay- 
then  through  the  prease  we  quickly  made  o"^  way 
like  hunted  sheepe  the  Spaniards  'fore  us  run 
being  all  resolved  they  were  quite  undon. 
the  streetes  being  narrowe  much  they  did  molest 
us  in  o*^  passage  as  we  forward  preast 
from  houses  toppes  they  sent  such  store  of  stones 
&  from  their  Charnell-houses,  showers  of  bones 
w*^  tyles  &  brick-batts,  &  such  mauling  geere 
as  might  make  any  but  the  Enghsh  feare. 
but  we  left  not,  but  manlj''  them  pursued 
unto  the  Market  place  in  blood  imbrued 
where  they  gave  in  &  yielded  up  the  Towne 
&  conquered  caytives  cast  their  weapons  downe 
the  fury  of  o'^  men  was  soone  allayd 
when  none  resisted  we  from  slaughter  staid. 
Nowe  see  the  cares  of  Gennerals  truly  Noble 
on  paine  of  death  they  forbad  all  to  trouble 
either  the  female  sex  or  children  small 
or  the  religious,  but  to  spare  them  all. 
Ladies  &  Gentlewomen  they  did  p[er]met 
in  their  best  clothes.  Jewels,  &  all  thinges  fitte 
to  passe  away  unto  the  Porte  St.  Mary 
the  Generals  Pinnasses  them  all  did  carrj' 
whilst  they  them  selves  stood  by  the  waters  side 
to  see  noe  wronge  or  harme  should  them  betide 
that  rich  magnificent  Bishop  of  Cusco 
w**^  all  of  sacred  Orders  being  let  goe 
and  quite  released  w[i]thout  ransome  paying.^ 

This  is  followed  by  a  description  of  the  booty  and  ransom. 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  119  ff. 


196  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

fifty  two  shippes  in  the  late  sea-fight  beaten 

w*'^  ran  aground,  seeing  o"^  ffleete  them  threaten 

two  MilUons  &  a  half  of  Ducats  offered 

from  further  danger  to  be  ransomed. 

Our  Noble  Gennerals  would  not  once  give  eare 

but  for  the  Merchants  shippes  w'^**  then  lay  there 

w*'*'  when  the  Admirall  did  understand 

the  Duke  of  Medina,  he  did  then  comand 

that  they  the  whole  ffleete  then  should  sacrifice 

to  angrie  Vulcan,  I  sawe't  w**^  myne  eyes 

then  the  thicke  cloudes  of  stincking  foggie  smoake 

did  many  a  Spaniard  on  the  hatches  choake 

Nowe  the  baseslaves  like  paddocks  flewe  in  th'  aire 

when  th'  fyre  &  powder  kist  (oh  loving  payre) 

when  th'  hideous  roaring  &  confounding  thonder 

bereaved  the  sayles  of  all  future  wonder 

when  smoake  flame  stench,  amasd,  astonished 

even  the  spectato*^^  that  they  were  nigh  deade. 

the  sailers  shrieked  w*"^  such  horrid  noise 

as  one  of  Hell  had  heard  the  fearefull  voice 

and  'tis  noe  wonder  th'  cryed  so  hideously 

for  they  were  posting  to  Hell  speedily 

they  in  the  suburbs  nowe  already  weare 

had  they  not  cause  then  t'  roare  &  howle  for  feare. 

two  of  th'  Apostles  then  were  martyred 

thus  for  their  service  they  full  ill  have  sped 

since  they  such  recompence  their  freinds  doe  give 

I'l  be  their  enimie  whiles  I  do  live 

by  that  was  done  in  the  yeare  88  ^ 

&  nowe  in  this  so  coweardly  retraite 

unto  the  world  it  doth  appeare  most  plaine 

that  these  same  thondering  Apostles  of  Spaine 

are  fals  Apostles  &  have  not  the  power 

England  t'convert,  no  not  unto  this  hower.^ 

1  Armada.  2  Vol.  II,  fos.  121  ff. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     197 


The  following  is  taken  from  the  relation  of  the  Gun- 
powder Plot.  The  author  gives  a  hst  of  those  taking^part 
in  the  treason: 

Catsby,  (yo"  cMldren  sucking  at  the  breast 

that  hatefull  name  abhor,  dread,  &  detest 

nay  let  men  tremble,  shudder,  quake  for  feare 

when  they  that  wretched,  odious  name  doe  heare) 

Catsby  (I  say  would  I  could  quietly  passe 

the  naming  him,  whose  shame  is  writ  in  brasse 

in  marble  to  th'  eternall  memorie 

of  f oUowinge  ages  &  posteritie) . 

He,  first  devisd  this  proiecte  so  imane  * 

w'^*^  to  the  worlds  ende  all  will  ever  bane 

and  to  this  worst  acte,  the  worst  tyme  of  th'  yeare 

he  did  sohcite  Wynter,  't  doth  appeare 

to  ioyne  w*^  him  against  all  humane  lawes 

some  thinge  to  doe,  for  th'  Catholique  Romane  cause 

S'^  Edmond  Baynam,  (Prince  of  th'  damned  crue) 

unto  the  Pope  was  sente  w*''^  tydinges  newe 

him  to  acquainte  w*^  this  damnd  powder  treason 

w°^  did  his  heart  glad,  above  sence  or  reason 

a  fit  Embassado'^  'twixt  Pluto  &  the  Pope 

who  for  rewardc  was  worthy  of  a  rope 

into  th'  Lowe  Countries,  Wynter  was  dispatcht 

to  seeke  a  desperate  Mate  in  Hell  unmatcht 

hight  Guydo  Faulks,  whom  he  did  over  bringe 

to  acte  this,  more  then  a  most  divehsh  thinge 

this  divelish  facte,  for  to  bewray  to  none 

(these  blacke  inhabitants  of  th'  infernal  lake 

doth  th'  holy  sacrament  the  blacke  band  make 

of  all  their  villany,  hke  the  Aquilians 

and  Brutus  sonnes,  who  shak't  their  bloody  hands 

in  a  mans  bowels  whom  they  would  sacrifice 

and  dranke  his  blood,  Vindicius  sawe't  with  's  eyes 

1  terrible,  cruel. 


198  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

when  trayterously  'gainst  Rome  they  did  conspire 
by  this  example  Papists  are  set  on  fyre 
when  treason  they,  or  murder  doe  intende 
they  th'  sacrament  receive  to  self  same  ende. 


There  't  was  agreed  by  Powder  to  be  don 

w*'^  if  it  had,  had  us  &  ours  undon 

in  that  blacke  consultation  they  concluded 

(the  Divell  as  the  sixt,  'mongst  them  intruded) 

to  undermyne  the  house  of  Parliamente 

a  house  was  hyred  neere  for  that  intent 

and  w*^  that  Stygian,  smoaky,  sulpherous  flame 

to  blowe  up  all  o"^  so  longe  purchast  fame 

to  blowe  up  Kinge,  Queene,  Prince,  Nobillity 

Counsell,  Divines,  Judges,  Knights,  Gentery. 

Because  Religion  (said  they)  was  suppressed 

Upon  that  House  their  fury  should  b'expressed 

Oh  plotte  of  Furyes,  treason  sans  paralell 
invented  first  by  Pluto,  Prince  of  Hell 
,  so  cruell,  brutish,  divelish  &  inmane 
as  will  I  hope  give  Papists  here  their  bane 
and  make  them  odious  through  the  universe 
where  ever  any  doth  this  facte  rehearse : 
who  knowes  where  this  their  hell-bred-rage  had  ended 
if  they  effected  had  what  they  intended 
for  that  one  House  alone  had  not  sufficed 
their  bloody  rage,  't  had  many  more  comprised 
The  Courte  of  Records,  w*^  th'  House  of  Parhament 
should  at  one  instant  bin  to  filters  rent 
The  Hall  of  Judgment,  the  Collegiate  Churche 
must  w*^  the  rest  bin  taken  in  the  lurche 
the  sacred  Monuments,  w*^  the  Abbey  fayre 
blowne  up  had  bin  into  th'  unguilty  ayre.^ 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  200  ff. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     199 

The  following  story,  closely  resembling  in  one  of  its  plots 
Chaucer's  Miller's  Tale,  is  told  in  the  spirit  of  satire  against 
Roman  Catholicism: 

About  this  tyme,  in  th'  raigne  of  Harry  th'  eight 
whilst  irreUgious  houses  still  were  fraight 

It  was  even  then  that  this  same  Prior  I  say 

having  longe  walkt  in  superstitions  way 

one  by  the  spirit  prophesy  inspired 

revealed  this  secrete  to  him  undesyred 

but  privily  w*^  oath  &  p[ro]mise  both 

from  all  th'  world  to  conceale't,  though  he  were  loath. 

"  Not  many  monthes,  shalbe  expired  more 

before  the  Heavens,  such  stormes  on  earth  shall  poure 

that  all  this  Isle,  shall  in  greate  danger  be 

of  a  Deucalion-flood  in  qualitie 

which  all  religious  houses  shall  subverte 

wherof  th'  Inhabitants  must  share  a  parte 

for  none  exempte,  they  shalbe  ruin'd  all 

from  th'  meanest  Moncke,  to  th'  most  Pontificall 

Twenty-eight  days  (he  said)  the  same  should  laste, 

er  th'  furye  of  that  Flood  should  quite  be  paste." 

This  hearing  he  to  save  one  casts  aboute 

and  this  as  safest  meanes  he  fyndeth  out 

upon  some  steepe-high-peering-hill  to  make 

some  Babell-frame,  so  stronge  it  should  not  shake 

w*^  surging  billowes,  beating  on  the  same 

of  Harrowe-hill  he  did  make  choice  by  name 

upon  whose  utmost  height,  a  house  he  built 

sparing  nor  tyme,  nor  labour,  nor  yet  gilt  ^ 

untill  his  sweating  workmen  finished 

his  spire-like-building,  him  to  free  from  dread. 

w*''  a  bricke  wall  his  house  he  hemmd  in  round 

w*^^  cost  liim  many  a  fay  re  shininge  pound 

1  gold. 


200  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

as  Superstition  brought  him  in  the  coyne 

so  did  the  same  vice,  it  againe  purloyne. 

Nowe  they  did  hold,  in  those  blynde  moone-shine-dayes 

where  in  the  cleere  sun  never  shew'd  his  rayes 

Paradise  was  but  sixteene  cubits  hie 

above  the  earth,  where  Enoch  safe  did  lye 

(and  yet  mee  thinks,  when  Noahs  flood  did  reache 

full  fifteene  cubits  (so  the  Worde  doth  teache) 

above  the  highest  sweelinge  mountaines  toppes 

Enoch  for  feare  should  have  berayed  his  ...  ^ 

having  noe  boate  to  swym  as  Bolton  ^  had 

the  w'''^  mighte  make  him  so  much  more  to  drad 

had  I  bin  in  that  Papists  Paradice 

I  should  have  drowning  feard)  oh  foule  device! 

had  he  not  reason  then  to  build  it  hie 

an  hundred  feete  he'le  have  't  made  certainly. 

To  the  Sub-prior  he  comits  the  charge 

of  all  his  Frj^ers,  lets  them  not  run  at  large 

and  hke  an  Anchorite,  or  a  Recluse  he 

mewes  up  himself  in  's  walles  most  carefully 

of  victuals  he  abundant  store  p[ro3vides 

himself  so  to  preserve  for  aftertydes 

his  Tower-toppe,  was  fairely  roofed  over 

that  it  did  much  more  then  the  Spire-top  cover 

there  puUies  were  made  fast  at  either  ende 

on  w*'^  a  ffisher-boate  he  cause  depende 

covered  w*'^  hatches,  therby  himself  to  free 

from  the  raynes  outrage,  if  that  neede  should  be 

his  Masons  wrought  him  in  &  left  noe  doare 

he  meant  to  swym  out,  or  stir  out  noe  more 

the  Boate  to  th'  toppe,  himself  had  haled  up 

upon  the  hatches  he  did  alwayes  suppe 

w[i]thin  the  Boate  he  lay,  there  was  his  bed 

in  the  day  tyme,  on  's  bookes  he  alwayes  read 

^  The  word  cannot  be  deciphered;  it  may  be  "slopyes." 
'^  The  prior. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS    201 

for  Holy  Legends,  &  Saints  Lives  he  loved 

(most  fit  for  such  as  blynde  devotion  moved) 

by  day  the  Prior  spente  his  tjine  belowe 

for  that  the  ffloods  growe  by  degrees  yo"  knowe 

and  he  might  by  degrees  &  steps  ascende 

into  his  Pallace  height  &  upy  ende 

an  hundred  steppes  high  was  his  stairecase  framed 

for  making  it  so  lowe  he  might  be  blamed. 

in  morne  when  he  came  downe  on  everj'  stayre 

he  said  his  Credo,  for  an  harty  prayer 

those  on  his  Beades  Devoutly  he  told  over 

as  one  that  was  of  th'  Pope,  his  God  a  lover 

w"^  he  told  backe  when  he  went  up  to  bed 

w*^  Ave  Maria  w''^  w**^  zeale  he  sed 

Ora  Pro  Nobis  he  thumpt  on  liis  breast 

fearing  't  be  drownd  on  a  dry  hill,  oh  ieaste! 

This  Revelation  w*^^  was  shewed  thus 

he  tooke  as  sent  from  heaven  propitious 

thinking  as  Noah,  he  againe  should  raise 

a  future  Nation,  in  's  declyninge  dayes 

but  that  he  wants  a  female  &  would  fayne 

have  gone  out  of  his  Hermitage  againe 

had  he  not  feared  he  might  be  prevented 

er  his  returne,  therfore  himself  contented 

er  els  that  freinds  might  possibly  p[er]suade-him 

for  w*^  stronge  reasons  many  did  disuade-him 

therfore  he  thought,  better  be  sav'd  alone 

for  he  might  have  a  female  made  of  stone 

as  once  Pigmalion  had;  but  nowe  before 

this  careful  Prior  provided  bookcs  good  store 

these  bookes  he  was  most  careful  to  preserve 

therfore  of  Holy  Church  did  much  deser\^e. 

Legenda  aurea,  Gesta  Romanorum 

Panoplia,  Stella  Clericorum 

St  Gregories  Legende,  Eckius  Encheiridion 

Asotus  workes  of  Supererogation 


202  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Taxa  poenitentiaria  Apostolica 
Dionysius  Areopagita.^ 

A  meale-mouthed-Miller,  not  far  off  did  dwell 

whose  story  mixed  w*^  the  Priors  He  tell 

He  for  her  goods  an  old  wife  married 

poore  Croane  sh'had  better  sped  if  she  had  tarried 

a  widdowe  still :  when  he  her  bagges  had  got 

he  did  protest  for  her  he  cared  not 

nor  w**^  a  fawe  ^-falne-gipsy  would  he  live. 

thus  w***  vile  taunts  he  did  the  poore  soule  greive 

ner  came  in  bed  w**^  her,  nor  plaid  the  p[ar]te 

of  a  kynde  husband  w''^  went  nere  her  harte 

the  reason  was  he  had  found  out  a  Lasse 

whose  skyn  was  white  &  smooth  as  looking-glasse 

a  Captaines  wife,  a  bony-bouncing-Girle 

who  in  this  Gold-thumbs  eyes  was  a  faire  p[ear]le 

Mounsieur  the  Miller,  w***  his  mealy  mouth 

lov'd  her  too  well,  to  tell  you  the  plaine  truth 

her  husband  was  a  man  of  mycle  yeares 

and  yet  the  Miller,  th'  Captaines  wife  oft  cheeres. 

that  he  more  freely  nowe  might  have  his  will 

he  was  their  Miller  &  did  grynde  there  still 

tole-free  he  often  ground,  tooke  deeper  tole 

(to  the  greate  hazard  of  his  pocky  soule) 

when  w*^  the  M"^'^^;  of  the  house  he  mette 

th'  Captaine  oft  absent,  nothing  their  love  did  let  * 

but  coming  home  his  old  wife  seemd  to  be 

an  extreame  pull-backe,  to  his  ioUitie 

then  would  he  alwayes,  rage  &  curse  &  sweare 

that  noe  man  could  her  filthy  fashions  beare. 

The  Captaine  wounded  by  some  dismall  blowe 

nowe  kept  his  bed:  they  to  conclusion  growe 

that  night  to  have  a  bout:  at  his  backe  dore 

she  was  to  enter,  there  to  play  the  whore 

1  This  list  of  books  continues  for  nearly  twenty  verses. 
^  stained,  dirty.  ^  Mistress.  *  hinder. 


SELECTIONS    FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     203 

if  that  the  Miller  can  get's  wife  to  goe 

downe  to  the  Mill,  they  had  appointed  soe 

some  flight  shot  from  the  house  the  Mill  was  set 

his  wife  being  there,  nought  could  their  purpose  let 

unto  the  hill  sj'de  she  did  walke  the  while 

that  so  she  might  the  too  longe  tyme  beguile 

if  he  once  whistled  she  was  to  come  in 

the  more  securely  to  coniit  their  sin. 

Out  of  her  house  the  old  Lasse  would  not  stir 

the  Miller  scarce  could  keepe  his  fist  from  her 

but  chaufed  &  raild,  wisht  her  in  deepest  hell 

in  this  mad  rage  he  her  this  newes  doth  tell 

He'le  hange  himself  before  he'le  leade  that  life 

w**^  such  an  old-untoward-beldame-wife 

w*^  many  oathes  liis  former  speech  he  bound 

that  he  would  hange  him  self  that  night  from  ground 

so  shall  I  be  at  once  (said  he)  cleane  rid 

of  such  a  plague,  as  ner  by  man  was  bid 

a  foule-mishapen,  old,  crowe-trodden  queane 

drivehng  at  mouth,  nose  dropping,  most  obsceene 

one  were  as  good  in  hell  it  self  abide 

as  to  lye  by  such  a  red-herrings  syde 

smoake  dry'd  hke  those  that  Lymbo  doth  conteine 

and  in  this  rage,  away  he  wente  amaine. 

Poore  cuckqueane  she  more  reason  had  by  far 

w*^  him  for  's  whoare  rather  to  chide  &  iar. 

but  this  we  fynde  oft  by  experience  true 

the  guilty  make  the  guiltlesse  most  to  rue 

condemning  them,  themselves  condemnd  should  be 

as  in  this  patterne,  yo"  may  plainly  see. 

Candles  were  lighted,  th'  evening  darke  did  growe 

so  as  one  man  could  not  an  other  knowe 

when  as  they  met  w[i]thout  a  candles  Ught 

as  it  was  darke,  so  't  was  a  wyndy  nighte 

the  blustering  wynde,  a  stormc  of  rayne  did  raise 

a  while  this  Beldam  strucke  w*''  terro"^  prayes 


204  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

prayes  &  cryes  out,  howles,  makes  a  mournfull  noise 

this  was  the  sauce  she  had  w*^  hoped  ioyes 

w''^  nerthelesse  she  never  did  p[ar]take 

th'  Miller  a  begger,  she  a  man  did  make 

of  rumpe-wood-widdowes,  she's  a  patterne  iust 

though  ner  so  old,  yet  younge  lads  have  they  must 

who  for  the  most  p[ar]t,  them  doe  thus  rewards 

getting  their  gold  they  quickly  them  discarde. 

and  worthily,  what  reason  can  they  give 

when  they  for  yeares  can  scarce  thre  somers  live 

that  they  a  boy  of  18  yeares  will  wed 

&  bringe  them  to  their  ycie  chilling  bed? 

if  lust  be  not  the  cause,  the  divell's  then 

but  thus  th'are  fitted  though  by  most  younge  men. 

The  noise  she  made,  the  neighboures  quickly  heard 

therfore  came  rufiing  to  her,  being  afeard 

her  husband  wronged  her.     In  they  rushing  came 

Walter  (quoth  she)  is  gon  (so  was  his  name 

Flood  his  sir  name),  in  a  greate  rage  from  me 

vowinge  to  hange  himself  imediateUe. 

The  neighboures  to  his  father  bare  the  newes 

who  w**^  all's  houshold  straite  way  him  pursues 

w***  all  the  neighboures  dwelling  there  about 

w**^  Lynkes  ^  &  Lanthornes  in  a  confused  route 

w**^  Torches,  fyrebrands  over  all  the  hill 

his  freinds  crying,  Walter,  Water,  Water  still 

his  neighboures  likewise  they  as  fast  did  call 

Flood,  Flood,  Flood,  Water,  Water,  Flood,  even  all 

thus  round  about  the  hill  all  night  they  run 

as  if  Bi-maters  Orgies  had  bin  don 

th'old  Croane  his  wife,  cry'd  out  w**^  mournfull  noise 

Wynde,  rayne.  Flood,  Water,  w**^  a  sad  horse  voyce 

Nowe  in  the  depths  of  night,  the  Prior  waked 

hearing  them  cry,  his  hart  for  horro'  quaked 

1  A  torch  usually   made   of   pitch.     Cf.    Shakspere,    1    Henry   IV, 
Act  ni,  So.  3, 1.  48. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     205 

some  crying  Flood,  others  did  Water  cry- 
about  the  hill  he  many  lights  did  spie 
and  he  imagined  they  clymb'd  the  hill 
least  that  the  water  should  their  deere  lives  spill, 
his  wife,  his  father,  mother  &  his  brother 
did  all  yell  out  &  shrike  one  to  another 
other  did  Lure  ^  &  hallowe  wanting  light 
some  fell  in  ditches  in  the  darke  of  nighte 
&  pittifully  cryd,  some  helpe  to  have 
in  ponds  some  cry,  my  life,  my  life,  oh  save 
he  heard  them  talke  of  drowninge  all  aboute 
the  fearful!  yelling,  howlinge  of  the  route 

the  wynde  blew  loude  &  it  apace  did  rayne 

The  Prior  ready  was  to  dye  w*'^  paine 

all  the  day  longe,  he  still  the  flood  did  dread 

&  all  night  longe  he  drowning  feard  in  's  bed 

he  dream'd  of  nothing  but  of  rayne  &  water 

nowe  all  of  them  about  the  hill  doe  clater 

flood,  rayne,  wj^nde,  water,  peoples  fearfull  cryes 

all  w*^^  augment  liis  former  iealousies. 

That,  his  Prediction  was  nowe  to  expire 

iust  at  this  tj^me,  as  it  was  told  the  Prior 

thus  in  a  maze,  w*^  a  much  troubled  mynde 

(for  sup[er]stition  ever  is  so  blynde 

that  they  are  troubled  more  then  there  is  cause 

who  —  seming  wisest  are  as  wyse  as  dawes) 

a  knife  in  ech  hand  he  takes  instantly 

and  cut  both  cords  the  w*'^  his  boate  hunge  by 

so  w*^  a  sersarery  ^  downe  he  came 

calling  aloude  upon  St  Beckets  name 

bruised  w*^'s  fall  &  wounded  w**^  one  knife 

he  thus  did  finish  's  superstitious  life. 


^  to  call.    A  lure  was  a  name  for  a  trumpet. 
^  certainty. 


206  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

During  this  hurly-burly  and  disquiet 
in  a  close  cave,  the  Miller  lay  close  by-it 
close  lay  the  Miller  to  his  Paramore 
a  gallant  wenche.^ 


A  certain  Jack  Gullion  has  been  imprisoned  for  drunken- 
ness by  his  king: 

He  ^  sent  him  to  the  Gaoile  awhile  to  kepe 

that  he  might  setle's  braines  by  rest  &  sleepe 

but  when  as  Gullion  to  the  prison  came 

and  heard  that  he  should  suffer  for  the  same. 

Nay  then  (said  he)  before  I  dye,  I'le  drinke 

w*^  any  man  who  best  himself  doth  thinke 

even  for  an  hundred  pound  of  shininge  gold 

and  here  it  is  (on  table  he  it  told.) 

Loe  this  the  preparation  for  his  soule 

he  thus  doth  praye,  nowe  when  the  bell  doth  tole 

even  so  o'^  prisoners  when  in  gaoile  they  lye 

they  practise  there  all  kynde  of  villany 

although  their  conscience  doth  convicte  them  plaine 

that  they  have  iustly  merited  Hell-payne 

though  nowe  the  horro'^^  of  their  conscience  might 

them  (being  in  durance)  grievously  affright 

because  they  nowe  must  unto  reckoninge  come 

not  of  their  lewdnesse  all,  but  of  that  same 

w*''^  will  endanger  their  (most  wicked)  life 

and  them  expose  unto  the  Hangemans  knife 

they  are  as  blithe  &  frolicke  as  before 

Such  as  their  hands  embued  in  bloody  gore 

nay  when  they  are  condemned  by  the  Lawe 

to  dye  the  death,  they  not  regarde't  a  strawe. 

^  Vol.  II,  fos.  52  ff.  The  author  tells  the  reader  that  the  prophecy 
came  true  concerning  the  destruction  of  all  religious  houses  and 
orders  by  the  laws  of  suppression  of  Henry  VIII. 

*  The  German  ruler. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS    207 

Once  we  must  dye,  therfore  let's  merry  be 
when  life  doth  ende,  adieu  felicity 
(they  say)  let's  drinke  o"^  fill  while  we  be  here 
for  Hell  is  dry,  then  there  is  no  good  beere 
A  heavy  case,  men  should  so  desp[er3ate  be 
but  thus  it  is  w***  such  we  dayly  see. 


Of  drunkenesse  a  little  let's  discusse 

this  vice  died  not  w*^  those  eight  drunkards  ^  thus 

but  since  hath  spred  itself  throug  Germany 

and  nowe  in  England  it  growes  fruitfully 

a  Hydra  headed  monster  it  appeares 

encreasing  more  &  more  by  tracte  of  yeares 

their  fearefuU  end  doth  not  make  drunkards  feare 

for  still  they  tipple  &  wall  not  forbeare. 

Men  sometj'me  dranke,  only  to  coole  their  thirst 

but  nowe  untill  they  doe  even  almost  burst 

o"^  gallant  Tospots  nowe  do  use  to  drinke 

half  pots  &  pots,  untill  they  downe  do  sinke 

nay  out  of  measure,  they  by  measure  swill 

by  th'  yard  &  ell,  that  they  may  have  their  fill 

the  next  device  wilbe  to  drinke  by  th'  rod 

for  nowe  o'^  drunkards  feare  nor  man  nor  god 

then  like  to  GuUion  they'le  whole  hogshedes  quaffe 

right  Swinish  fashion,  as  the}^  drinke  their  draffe 

Lawes  have  ben  made  to  curb  such  heretofore 

&  by  these  lynes  I  doe  those  Powers  implore 

to  whom  redresse  of  such  foule  vice  belonges 

to  'mende  th'amisse  &  right  these  greivous  wrongs. 

Of  drunkennesse,  what  nede  I  more  to  say 

that  it  is  divelish  none  can  well  denay 

bad  for  the  purse,  the  body,  &  the  mynde 

and  yet  the  worst  of  all  is  still  behinde 

bad  for  the  soule  too  would  yo"  have  me  prove-it 

it  utterly  undoeth  all  that  love-it 

'  Gullion  and  his  companions  in  jail. 


208  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

the  purse  is  wasted  by  th'  excesive  use 
the  next  fild  w**^  disease  by  that  abuse 
the  mynde  forgetfull,  dull,  &  melancholly 
the  soule  is  damnd  to  Hell,  for  that  mad  folly. 
Thre  Outs  o'^  swaggering  Gallants  do  carouse 
when  as  they  meete  in  swynish-tipling-house 
first  all  the  drink  the  w"^  the  pot  doth  hold 
next  all  the  mony  they  in  purse  have  told 
&  thirdly  all  the  wit  out  of  their  head 
that  oft  a  watry  ditch,  serves  for  their  bed.^ 

The    following    quotations    continue    a   series    of    prison 
pictures  of  which  the  story  of  Gullion  was  the  first: 

Xadleus  he  in  prison  beinge  pent 
in  tyme  of  actinge  this  strange  accident 
for  that  in  divelish  witchcraft  he  had  skill 
wherby  he  had  don  many  a  greivous  ill 
he  made  a  scoffe  at  what  the  God  had  don 
saying  himself  would  doe  as  much  anon 
so  that  the  company  came  crowdinge  in 
and  did  attende  when  Xadley  would  begin 
Thither  by  chance  a  Tanner  came  to  see 
what  pleasant  sport  should  in  the  prison  be 
behinde  his  backe,  a  Butte  of  leather  hanged 
w*^  GuUion  he  the  pitcher  lately  banged. 
He  bid  him  lay  his  leather  on  the  table 
(quoth  he)  wilt  give  it  me  if  I  am  able 
to  make  it  come  to  me  from  th'  other  ende 
and  never  touch  it?     He  did  condiscende. 
The  leather  straite  came  sliding  all  alonge 
to  th'  admiration  of  the  wonderinge  thronge. 
He  called  then:  ffiU  me  a  glasse  of  beere 
the  Tapster  fild  a  Venice  glasse  most  clere 
into  his  hande  he  quickly  did  it  take 
but  let  it  fall,  it  all  in  peices  brake 
he  causd  his  boy,  the  peices  up  to  gather 
1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  36  ff. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     209' 

that  he  might  make  it  whole,  so  much  the  rather 

he  blowes  upon  them  &  they  did  conioyne 

thus  made  he  it  both  whole  againe  &  fyne. 

To  kill  one  that's  alive,  ech  one  can  doe 

yet  for  a  myracle  the  same  doth  goe 

but  I  will  unto  painted  men  give  life 

and  make  them  fighte,  till  death  doe  end  their  strife 

w*^  that  he  tooke  two  Cardes  out  of  the  packe 

only  they  two  did  of  the  payre  ^  lacke 

the  rest  he  nj^mbly  to  the  seeling  cast 

where  every  one  of  them  did  sticke  full  faste. 

those  other  two  w*^'^  he  in  hande  did  save 

the  one  of  Clubs,  the  other  of  Harts  the  Knave 

at  ech  ende  of  the  table,  one  he  laide 

they  start  upright,  that  all  men  were  dismaide 

and  there  they  fought  in  earnest  &  in  scorne 

till  one  an  other  had  in  peices  torne. 

There  was  a  villain  that  was  laid  in  there 

a  most  abhorred  bloody  murderer 

an  other  that  his  brother  poisoned 

his  father  being  then  but  newly  dead, 

because  the  elder  did  enioye  the  lands 

and  this  was  left  to  live  upon  his  hands 

that  day  wherin  his  father  was  inter'd 

he  ravisht's  sister  for  he  nothing  feard 

nor  angry  Gods,  nor  iustice  doeing  men 

if  't  were  to  doe,  he  would  it  doe  again 

the  one  a  reeper  '^  was,  all  clad  in  greene 

as  rancke  a  Ruffian  as  was  ever  scene 

these  two  were  most  blasphemous  swearing  knaves 

and  so  in  prison  ech  himself  behaves 

the  first  like  one  starke  mad  would  often  swears 

yea  greatest  Gods  name,  all  in  peices  teare 

'  pack  or  deck  of  cards. 

*  This  may  mean  "keeper."    The  word  is  not  clear. 


210  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

they  st[r]ivinge  both,  w*^*^  strange  oathes  all  t'excede 

and  their  Redemer  often  made  to  bleede 

w**^  wounds  &  nayles,  &  other  oathes  besyde 

as,  harte,  &  foote,  &  precious  bleeding  side 

w*^  blood,  &  hfe,  &  death  &  oathes  more  strange 

yea  sacred  powers,  w**^  thinges  p[^ro]]fane  they  range 

oh  strange  &  yet  comon  impiety 

that  they  most  vile  thinges  thus  will  deifie. 

It's  comon  growne  to  sweare  by  faith  &  troth 

for  men  account  the  same  to  be  no  oath 

swearinge  is  counted  nowe  to  be  noe  sin 

oh  monstrous  age,  what  tymes  doe  we  live  in! 

t'is  Gentleman-like  both  to  curse  &  sweare 

and  boldy  too  w[i3thout  or  dread  or  feare 

'tis  the  best  grace  a  gentleman  can  use 

in  his  discourse,  who  will  the  same  refuse? 

Th'are  clownes  &  dolts,  that  tell  a  tale  sans  swearing 

disgracefuU  is  their  speeche,  if  oathes  be  sparinge 

but  those  that  sweare  w**^  greatest  grace  of  all 

I  say  that  they  have  iust  noe  grace  at  all 

they  by  their  faith  doe  sweare  &  by  their  troth 

untill  indede  they  neither  have  of  both, 

when  they  by  God  sweare,  they  their  bellyes  meane. 

for  other  God  they  scarcely  care  a  beane 

he  that  sweares  not,  they  count  him  not  a  man 

but  valiant,  noble,  that  do  curse  &  ban 

a  man  of  courage,  spirit,  brave,  &  stoute 

but  he  a  Milksop  that  speakes  oathes  w[i]thout. 

divines  them  selves  that  others  should  reprove 

dare  rap  out  oathes,  &  sweare  they  swearing  love 

such  fellowes  are  more  fit  for  plough  &  cart 
then  take  degree  &  be  made  M"^  of  Arte.^ 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  37  verso  flf. 


SELECTIONS  FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS    211 

Hermes  tells  Apollo  of  Rome: 

"  Rome  gnawes  the  flesh,  from  th'  hands  of  every  man 

&  hates  all  those  of  whom  she  nought  get  can. 

Rome  is  the  Divels  schoole,  the  Mj'nte  of  Treason 

where  the  most  learned  live,  quite  voide  of  reason 

their  best  learning's  their  erro"^**  to  defende 

for  this  they  study  &  noe  other  ende. 

a  cage  of  Uncleane  Birds,  a  filthy  Stewes 

where  th'  Holyest,  his  hand  in  blood  inbrues 

Rome  is  a  Nursery  of  Toades  &  spiders 

of  Serpents,  Adders  &  of  cursed  Vipers 

w''''  doe  infecte,  w*'^  stinge,  &  murder  all 

those  lands,  &  people,  they  converse  w[i]thall 

a  denne  of  Serpents  &  of  Dragons  fell 

a  poysonous  sty  as  venomous  as  Hell. 

Rome  is  a  Cabin  full  of  cursed  Traitors 

a  swarme  of  such  men  as  for  blood  are  wayters 

What  monstrous  villany  hath  ben  attempted 

or  els  comitted,  but 't  was  there  invented? 

And  Aretj^ne  a  booke  of  Bawdery  writ 

w***  many  pictures  w^**  belong'd  to  it 

where  many  severall  wayes  he  teacheth  howe 

one  may  p[er]forme  that  acte,  w**^  shame  enough. 

that  it  is  true  the  Stationers  can  tell 

I've  seene  the  pictures  publiquely  to  sell. 

In  pubUque  schooles  they  sticke  not  to  dispute 

(it  were  more  fitter  they  were  dumbe  and  mute) 

whither  Sodomy,  or  matrymonie's  best 

that  w^^  ech  honest  harte  doth  most  detest 

they  give  't  a  handsome  name  to  blynde  the  eye 

caUing  it  thus,  Clementine  Venery. 

The  Church  of  Rome,  may  well  be  catholique 
because  she  eates  up  lesse  as  doth  a  Pike 


212  THE   NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

eate  smaller  fishe,  for  soe  doth  she  devours 
all  smaller  Churches  that  are  in  her  power. 
Or  CathoUque,  maj^  well  thus  much  betoken 
the  Common  Church,  in  private  be  it  spoken 
for  She  doth  many  Common  Queanes  maintaine 
&  Common  Boyes :  here  Holynes  doth  raigne 
Pope  Clement  prov'd  it  by  authority 
that  women  ought  be  comon  &  shew'd  why. 

Hence  yo"  Laye-people,  hence  all  yo*^  profane 
medle  not  3^0"  w**^  this  o   holy  function 
neither  o"^  orders,  nor  o"^  sacred  unction 
nor  come  yo"  neere  o"^  Lemans  touch  them  not 
3£ou]r  only  breath  their  chastetyes  will  blotte 
goe  to  the  Common  Stewes,  for  that's  appointed 
for  all  not  beinge  w*^  sacred  oj\e  annoynted. 
to  touch  a  Leman  that  'longes  to  a  Priest 
it  is  the  greatest  syn  that  er'e  j'ou  udst. 
Rare  questions  there  by  Doctors  are  propounded 
M'^^  of  Arte,  &  Bachelours  well  grounded 
these  &  such  like  not  one  of  them  is  vaine 
whether  that  God,  can  make  a  whore,  againe 
a  Virgine  pure?    And  whether  Christ  could  take 
a  female  creatures,  or  a  womans  shape? 
if  he  could  turne  himself  into  the  forme 
that  is  of  damned  Divels  &  of  feindes  worne? 
if  he  an  Asses  nature  could  take  on  him."  ^ 

"  The  Pope  yo"  knowe  kepes  many  Jubihes 
amongst  his  other  Jewish  cerimonies 
there,  I  myself  was  present  at  the  last 
when  all  the  busj^nes  of  that  daye  was  past 
all  housen  there  were  fild  so  full  of  guests 
that  one  of  them  an  other  much  molests 
for  I  that  had  my  chamber  private  kepte 
thre  weekes  &  more,  &  there  securely  slepte 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  72  ff. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     213 

was  then  disturbed  w**^  a  chamber-mate 
by  gate  &  speeche,  he  seemd  a  man  of  state, 
at  supper  he  his  glasse  did  kepe  alone 
he  never  layde  his  fingers  meate  upon 
but  w*^  his  silver  carvinge  forke  he  slaid-it 
night  cald  to  bed,  &  he  good-man  obeid-it 
because  I  knewe  not  well  my  chamber-fellowe 
my  purse  I  layde,  close  underneath  my  pillowe: 

...  at  length  I  slept  foxe-slepe 

&  often  w*^  one  eye  I  up  did  peepe 

to  see  what  this  brave  gallant  went  about 

first  did  I  see  him  five  on's  teeth  pull  out 

w*^^  in  a  boxe  he  laid  full  daintely 

then  nexte  he  pulled  out  his  blynde  left  eye 

then  puld  he  off  his  fayre  enameld  Nose 

w''^  from  true  flesh  could  noe  mans  eyes  disclose 

it  to  the  flesh  conioyned  was  so  well 

it  shew'd  the  Artists  curming  did  excell."  ^ 

"  Yo"  first  must  knowe  this  lande  ^  in  riches  flowes 
where  many  a  man  hath  much  more  then  he  knowes 

in  gay  apparrell  they  doe  much  dehghte 
to  goe  neat  clothed  is  a  seemely  sighte 
but  to  exceede  &  passe  their  owen  degree 
to  take't  at  best,  it  is  but  foolerye. 
Many  fantastic  Asses  I  have  seene 
w*'^  w*^  that  vice,  have  fouly  tainted  bene 
but  one  amongst  the  rest  that  did  excell 
whose  story  nowe  I  briefly  mcane  to  tell 
so  sone  as  ever  any  fashion  changed 
into  that  shape  himself  he  forthw***  ranged 
a  most  fantasticke  shallowe-braj'-ned-GuU 
as  ever  ware  a  hatte  of  Spanish-wooll. 

1  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  73  verso  ff.  Italy. 


214  THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS 

Nowe  w***  a  swaggering  Switzers  hose  he  went 
then  in  a  French  round  hose,  that  his  .  .  .  ^  pent 
then  w***  a  Tankerd-hose,  that's  greate  at  waste 
ty'de  above  knee,  the  upp  ende  bumbast 
nowe  w**^  a  paire  of  greate  longe  paired  hose 
drawne  out  w***  silke  he  wallomngly  goes 
then  w*^  a  full  cloth  hose  as  bigge  at  knee 
as  'tis  above,  &  thus  continewallye 
he  changeth  forme  in  dublet,  hatte,  &  shoes 
in  cloake,  in  bande,  &  he  doth  dayly  choose 
as  a  newe  suite,  so  a  newe  colour  too 
ech  day  he  doth  in  different  colours  goe. 

nowe  like  a  Rain-bowe,  some  of  every  coloure 
then  hke  a  Punck  in  white,  even  like  his  mother, 
then  like  a  Mourner  he's  all  clad  in  blacke 
nought  white,  but  bande  &  face :  when  as  alacke 
blacke  should  betoken  of  a  well-staied-head 
or  of  bemoaninge  some  (deere  loved)  dead 
when  I  thus  sawe  him  given  intollerably 
to  foUowe  every  fashion  newe  so  variably 
(if  he  but  one  sawe,  a  newe  fasliion  weare 
to  be  the  seconde  he  would  straite  prepare."  ^ 

The  following  selections  are  taken  from  a  story  connected 
with  the  attack  on  Cadiz.  A  Spanish  mother  with  one 
son  has  prevented  his  marriage  by  attacking  the  virtue  of 
women.  Later,  when  her  son  is  slain  in  the  EngUsh  attack, 
she  tells  of  the  sorrows  of  a  mother: 

"  My  son,  my  son,  oh  take  heede  howe  yo"  wive 
Wives  are  th'  p[er]nitionst  ^  creatures  nowe  ahve 
the  rankst  dissemblers  that  er  breathd  this  ayre 
but  most  inchanting  Witches  if  th'are  fayre 

^  The  word  is  blurred;  it  looks  like  "breche." 
2  Vol.  I,  Part  II,  fos.  77  verso  ff. 
^  pernicious. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS     215 

beleve  them  not,  what  ever  they  yo"  tell 

th'are  hoUowe  harted  as  th'  vast  caves  of  Hell 

th'are  like  Hyenas  seming  most  to  mourne 

to  wanton  laughter  presently  they  turne 

their  vertues  they  in  folio  doe  expresse 

but  all  their  vices  labo"^  to  represse 

they'le  hide  their  faults,  yo"  never  shall  them  knowe 

but  all  their  vertues  they'le  to  all  men  showe 

if  they  be  amorous  enclyned  to  love 

then  most  inconstant  changelinge  they  will  prove 

if  full  of  children  costly  in  their  fare 

if  barren  most  insatiate  then  they  are 

if  they  be  younge  to  wantonesse  inclynde 

if  mydle  ag'd,  yo"  shall  them  subtile  fynde 

if  old  why  then  w*^  covetize  affected 

iealous,  complayning  that  they  are  neglected 

if  wise  then  proude  &  much  conceited  too 

if  foolish  she's  thy  shame  wher  er  she  goe 

if  she  be  rich,  she  wilbe  insolent 

if  poore  (p[er]haps)  w*^  lesser  state  content 

if  p[er]sonable,  comely,  then  she's  coy 

if  homely,  sluttish,  her  sight  doth  anoy 

if  well  descended,  she'le  be  bravely  kept 

all  have  their  vices  noe  one  state  except 

be  ruld  by  me  my  son  &  good  heede  take 

what  kynde  of  creature  thou  thy  wife  dost  make 

more  easelier  thou  shalt  a  thousand  fynde 

lewde  &  p[er]verse  then  one  of  vertuous  mynde 

what  man  so  ever  ventures  on  that  Ufe 

may  for  his  crosse  take  up  a  crooked  wife 

I  will  not  say  but  thou  by  chance  mayst  hit 

on  such  a  one  as  may  be  for  thee  fit. 

Into  a  Barrell  can  one  put  liis  arme 

naked  &  bare  (&  yet  be  free  from  harme) 

fild  full  of  Snakes  &  stinging  Adders  eke 

can  any  one  I  say  that  so  doth  seeke 


216  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

fynde  out  one  Ele  that  is  put  them  among 
in  mydst  of  such  a  most  contagious  thronge? 
If  he  by  chance  upon  the  Ele  should  Ught 
can  he  the  Snakes  enchant  that  they  not  bite? 
Is  not  an  Eles  tayle,  a  most  shppery  hold? 
whence  comes  the  proverbe  that's  as  true  as  old. 
Y'are  even  as  good  hold  a  xoette  Ele  by  the  tayle 
as  to  repose  a  tncst  in  Women  fraile. 
But  say  one  could  out  of  the  Barrell  get 
the  Ele  &  that  the  Snakes  stinges  did  not  let 
a  Snakish  nature  will  the  Ele  possesse 
by  lying  amongst  them  she  can  doe  no  lesse 
though  their  tayles  stinge  not,  yet  beware  their  tongues 
the  venom'st  member  that  to  them  belonges.^ 

After  her  son's  death  the  mother  exclaims : 

"  To  thousand  paynes  we  women  are  exposd 

•^th  gi-gifgs  ^  feares  we  restlestly  are  tosd 

when  we  doe  marry  we  o"^  hopes  do  misse 

being  cloy'd  w*^  cares,  when  we  expected  blisse 

Yea  the  first  night  that  we  to  bed  doe  goe 

doe  we  not  then  cry  out  for  greife  &  woe 

noe  other  creature  feeles  like  paynes  as  we 

in  the  deere  losse  of  o'^  virginitie 

and  w°^  is  worse  they  w*''^  doe  love  us  most 

doe  payne  us  thus  &  in  it  glorying  boast 

this  payne  o're  past,  when  we  conceive  w*'^  childe 

howe  careful!  are  we,  lest  the  same  be  spoild 

and  all  the  while  we  doe  that  burthen  beare 

we  never  are  dischargd  of  greife  &  feare 

w***  evill  stomacks  troubled  evermore 

longing  for  meates  we  never  lov'd  before 

for  such  oft  tymes  as  can  noe  where  be  had 

faynting  &  swooning  often,  that's  as  bad. 


1  Vol.  II,  fos.  123  verso  ff. 


SELECTIONS   FROM    THE  NEWE   METAMORPHOSIS    217 

longe  paines  in  nursing  children  when  th'are  borne 

but  many  wantons  do  that  labor  scorne 

the  loathsome  noysomnes  we  doe  indure 

and  waywardnes  that  nurse  them  I  am  sure 

the  want  of  sleeps  w*^  cryinge  all  the  night 

the  greivous  paines  when  thej^  o*^  teats  doe  bite 

o'^  breasts  obnoxious  unto  agues  oft 

w'^^  makes  us  stoope  although  we  looke  aloft 

still  are  o'^  feares  increast,  one  while  we  dread 

to  overlay  them  as  we  lye  in  bed 

then  fyre  &  water  in  next  place  we  feare 

to  keepe  them  from  it,  tis  o'^  speciall  care 

when  they  begin  to  ch^mbe  we  feare  their  falles 

if  out  of  sight  we  seeke  them  w*''  loudc  callcs 

one  while  we  feare  their  bones  be  out  of  ioynt 

w**^  bone-set-salves  we  doe  the  places  oynt 

nay  infinite  are  th'  severall  accidents 

that  doe  befall  them,  some  w*^  dyre  events. 

This  charge  once  past,  then  there  comes  next  in  place 

good  education  w"^^  may  give  them  grace 

feare  lest  they  should  us  by  bad  courses  greive 

or  by  their  lewdnes  us  of  ioy  deprive 

their  infancie  like  to  bruite  beasts  they  spende 

whose  waywardnes  doe  tetchie  Nurses  tende 

being  past  the  cradle  all  to  sport  enclynde 

w*^  Apish  toyes  they  please  their  wanton  mynde 

a  horse,  a  cowe,  or  like  beast  as  all  men  knowe 

in  4  or  5  yeares  to  p[er]fection  growe 

till  twice  seaven  yeares,  th'are  children  for  the  rod 

themselves  not  knowing,  fearing  nor  man  nor  God. 

But  growe  they  once  to  be  Haber-de-Hoyes 

that  is  the  state  betwene  a  Mans  &  Boyes 

then  comes  the  dangeroust  tyme  of  all  their  life 

(unless  they  happily  finde  a  vertuous  wife) 

then  riot,  lust,  quaffing,  &  swaggering 

quarreling,  contending,  &  unthrifty  spending 


218  THE  NEWE  METAMORPHOSIS 

our  children  marrying  we  good  portions  give 
by  meanes  wheroft  o"^  selves  oft  poorely  live 
when  old  age  comes,  we  then  twice  children  are 
&  like  Anotomies  our  bones  growe  bare 
a  sheete  at  death  we  cary  to  o*^  grave 
&  this  is  all  the  pleasure  that  we  have."  ^ 

1  Vol.  II,  fos.  126  fif. 


INDEX 


Alden,  R.  M.,  19  n.  2. 

Aldis,  H.  G.,  127. 

Ariosto,  Ludovico,  29,  45,  46,  51, 

124. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  134. 

Baskerville,  C.  R.,  120  n.  1. 
Beaumont,   Francis,   22  n.   3,   28 

n.  6,  113. 
Brink,  B.,  ten,  36  n.  1,  38  n.  3. 
Bullen,  A.  H.,    his  references  to 

the  manuscript,  68;  114  n.  2, 133. 

Capgrave,  John,  43. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  use  of  couplet, 

20;   influence  on  author,  36  ff.; 

36  n.  4,  6,  39,  42,  44,  45,  55, 

62,  63. 
Cutwood,  Thomas,  28  n-.  4. 

Davies,  sir  John,  28  n.  4. 
Devereux,  W.  B.,  87  n.  4. 
Donne,    John,     19,    his    satirical 

verse,  23;  60,  116,  136. 
Drayton,  Michael,  20,  20  n.  3,  54 

n.  1,  62,  155. 
Essex,  Robert  Devereux,  earl  of, 

29,   54,   73;  J.   M.'s  praise  of, 

87  ff.;  109,  115,  135,   136,   139, 

143,  151,  156. 
Fabliaux,    34;     use    of,    36    fif.; 

38,  39,  40,  42,  43,  156. 
Fenton,  Geoffrey,  27. 
Fleay,  F.  G.,  128,  129,  131  n.  5, 

132  n.  1,  154. 
Fletcher,  John,  22  n.  3,  113. 
Foxe,  John,  45. 
Gifford,  William,  his  criticism  of 

Marston,  112  ff. 
Greene,  Robert,  56,  107,  159. 
Grosart,  Rev.  Alexander,  his  refer- 
ences to  the  manuscript,  67  ff.; 

114  n.  3,  115  notes,  122  n.  3, 


131  n.  4,  132  n.  2,  133,  137  n.  2, 
144,  150  n.  4. 
Guilpin,  Edward,  28  n.  4,  130. 

Hall,  Joseph,  16  n.  3,  20,  23,  28  n. 
4,  60,  130  n.  2. 

Halliwell-Phillipps,  J.  O.,  connec- 
tion with  the  manuscript,  67; 
68,  110,  133. 

Harrington,  sir  John,  29,  124,  135. 

Harte,  William,  107,  126,  127  n.  1. 

Haslevvood,  Joseph,  1;  his  con- 
nections with  the  manuscript, 
65  ff.;    110. 

Howard,  Charles,  earl  of  Notting- 
ham, 54,  73,  115,  136. 

Jewell,  John,  44,  44  n.  9. 
Jonson,     Ben,     63;      112    n.     5; 

quarrel  with   Marston,  114  ff.; 

119  ff.,  130,  155  n.  1. 

Lamb,  Charles,  113. 
Lodge,  Thomas,  28. 

Marie  of  France,  34  n.  1. 

Markham,  C.  R.,  83  n.  2,  122  n. 
4,  134  n.  2.  135,  136  n.  1. 

Markham,  Francis,  122,  124  ff., 
134  n.  2,  140  n.  3. 

Markham,  sir  Griffin  135, 152, 156. 

Markham,  Jervase,  Thyrsis  and 
Daphne,  28;  65,  66,  69,  83  n.  1, 
90  n.  5,  91,  92,  93  n.  5,  99  n.  1, 
107,  108;  his  family,  122  fif.;  liis 
personality,  126  fif.;  his  works, 
127  ff.,  130;  the  use  of  the  letter 
J  in  Jervase,  131  ff.;  the  title 
gent.,  132  ff. ;  the  Frenche  name; 

133  ff.;     career    as    a    soldier, 

134  ff.;  connections  with  the 
Puritans,  137  ff.;  Markham  and 
Essex,  139  ff.;  love  of  country- 
life,     140    ff.;      wide     reading, 

219 


220 


INDEX 


141    ff.;    Markham    and    Cam 
bridge,  143;    as  a  poet,  143  ff. 
affection  for  his  father,  145  ff. 
his  home,  146;  his  style,  146  ff. 
evidence  summed  up,    148  ff. 
his  plagiarism,   149;    his  hand- 
writing, 150  ff.;  hatred  of  Spain, 
151  ff.;   hatred  of  Papacy,  152; 
the  theater,  153;    references  to 
contemporaries,  153  ff.;    reason 
for  not   publishing  the  manu- 
script, 155 ff.;  conclusion,  158 ff. 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  28,  28  n.  4, 
62,  112. 

Marston,  John,  1,  16  n.  3;  his 
verse,  23;  24,  28,  60,  65,  66,  67, 
69,  83  n.  4,  105,  108;  as  author 
of  the  manuscript,  110  ff.;  Miss 
Toulmin-Smith's  objections  to 
him  as  the  author,  110  ff.;  his 
real  merit.  111  ff.;  a  gentleman 
by  title,  114;  name  not  French, 
115;  as  a  soldier,  115  ff.;  dislike 
of  the  Puritans,  117  ff.;  addi- 
tional reasons  why  he  could 
not  be  J.  M.,  118  ff.;  his  style, 
119  ff.;    122,  130,  155  n.  2. 

Martin,  James,  65,  108  ff.;  as  the 
author,  109. 

Mason,  John,  65,  66,  108;  as  the 
author,  109. 

Massinger,  Phihp,  113. 

Matilda,  18,  19. 

Microcynicon  byT.  M.,  16n.  3. 

Middleton,  Thomas,  53  n.  2,  113. 

Milles,  Thomas,  6,  43. 

Minshull,  Geffray,  109  n.  2. 

Ortelius,  van,  43. 

Ovid,  Publius  Ovidus  Naso,  17, 
29;  tales  borrowed  from,  32  ff.; 
33  n.  2,  35  n.  2,  39,  43,  60,  91, 
156. 

Painter,  WiUiam,  27. 
Pastoral,  the  use  of,  40. 
Pettie,  George,  27,  32  n.  6. 


Piers  Plowman,  24. 
Pitcairn,  Robert,  41  n.  7. 
Pliny,  the  elder,  43. 
Plutarch,  43,  142. 
Purchas,  Samuel,  6,  43,  61. 

Ralegh,  sir  Walter,  6,  44,  54,  73, 

75  n.  2,  136,  152. 
Rich,  Barnabe,  27. 
Roberts,  James,  A  banishment  of 

Cupid,  51  n.  3. 

Shakspere,  WilHam,  22  n.  2; 
Venus  and  Adonis,  28,  59  n.  1, 
61,84n.  2,  111,  112,  113,  119  ff., 
123  n.  4,  154. 

Sidney,  sir  Phihp,  62,  154,  155 
n.  1. 

Skelton,  John,  24. 

Speed,  John,  44,  44  n.  5,  61. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  4  n.  8;  use  of 
couplet,  20;  39  ff.,  42,  45,  46, 
61  ff.,  63,  76  n.,  78  n.  4,  154. 

Stapleton,  Thomas,  44,  44  n.  7. 

Stowe,  John,  43,  61. 

Suckhffe,  Matthew,  44,  44  n.  8. 

Surrey,  Henry  Howard,  earl  of,  62. 

Theater,  reference   to  the,  63  ff., 

129,  153. 
Thorndike,  A.  H.,  121  n.  1. 
Toulmin-Smith,    Lucy,    1    n.    2, 

5  n.  2,  61  n.   1;  references  to 

manuscript,    68    ff.,    109  n..  1; 

reasons    why    not    assigned    to 

Marston,  110  ff.,  149. 
Tourneur,  Cyril,  29,  105,  149. 

Vere,  sir  Francis,  54,  73,  83,  136, 
156. 

Waldron,  F.  G.,  3  n.  1,  34  n.  4; 
connection  with  the  manuscript, 
65,  66,  108,  109,  110,  111  n.  4. 

Warton,  Thomas,  20  n.  1,  121,  132 
n.  1. 

Webster,  John,  113. 

Woodberry,  George,  20  n.  4. 

Wright,  Wilham,  41  n.  7. 


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